


Customer Service

by cosetties



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Background Relationships, Blow Jobs, Communication Failure, F/F, Idiots in Love, M/M, barista!Jason, emotionally-stunted!Nico, sassy!Jason
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-28
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2018-01-02 21:05:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 22,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1061637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosetties/pseuds/cosetties
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Jason meets Nico di Angelo, he decides on two things: one, the kid is an asshole, and two, his hopeless crush on Percy is just that - hopeless. The horrible first impression doesn't stop Jason from becoming friends with the guy, though, and if he indulges in a spot of matchmaking, that's entirely his prerogative.</p><p>It's too bad he's matching the wrong people together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Customer Service

**Author's Note:**

> this is literally the longest one-shot i've ever written. please love me. 
> 
> i'm so sorry about the porn.
> 
> beta credit to tumblr users [missykitkat](http://missykitkat.tumblr.com/) and [morelikeperpetually](http://morelikeperpetually.tumblr.com/)!

Annabeth makes it no secret that she’d originally hired Jason for his prettiness, half-assed resume and dubious coffee-making skills be damned. When he’d admitted his experiences with coffee were limited to the drinks he  could order from Starbucks without thinking twice, she’d whacked him on the head, saying that, yes, he’d make a fine barista as long as he only opened his mouth to flirt with unsuspecting customers. The tip jar had been all too tempting for a poor Classics major, and he’d taken the offer on the spot.

His job at the Argo II—pretentious name, but he was quoting the Iliad by age nine, so who is he to judge?—is all in all, pretty average. The public has yet to bow down to his superior customer service skills, but his boss is cool, he has down time for homework, and the pay is definitely more than alright. The Argo II is surprisingly busy for a coffee shop on the edge of the university campus, and the general hubbub keeps Jason occupied when he needs to lose himself in it. There’s always a Jason and the Argonauts joke waiting to be made. Annabeth had even given him a Golden Fleece for his birthday, but he endures the irony. Even students working toward degrees in unemployment have to eat.

If Jason were a poet, attuned to the ways of Metaphor and open to the Poetry of everyday life, he’d probably have seen this coming. Overcast day, freezing wind, dead leaves from trees blowing through the air in what seem to be predetermined flight patterns—he doesn’t need ESP to recognize that nature is telling him his life is going to hell. And soon, too. Problem is, Jason’s brain is more focused on _reality_ and less on _superstitious bullshit_ , so he suspects nothing as he walks into the coffee shop that day, backpack heavy on his shoulders and brain already bogged down by the mindless droning he’ll subject himself to for the next few hours.

He’s about thirty minutes into Percy’s afternoon shift when the bell above the door jangles. It’d been a slow day, and Jason has his coursework on the counter, seizing Annabeth’s absence as an opportunity to catch up on his workload. He’s just getting settled into his reread of the Aeneid when the sound jolts him back to reality. The guy shuffling in can’t be any older than a freshman, and he walks in a way that suggests he’s still getting used to navigating in a growing body. Even wrapped up in layers upon layers of clothing, he looks like he could blow away on the wind any minute.

Something about him sets Jason on edge, and he can’t put his finger on it. He’s creepy, sure, and his all-black attire doesn’t give off great vibes, but Jason knows better than to judge on appearances alone. He himself has been branded a brainless jock too many times for him to count. There’s something in his eyes, maybe. It’s always about the eyes.

Jason is kind of annoyed, just a little, when the guy goes right up to the counter and orders an espresso shot. It’s a ridiculously simple order, but Jason’s so caught up in his reading that any distraction seems jarring enough to throw him in for a loop. Right, wow, go ahead and interrupt his reading time to order a drink that’s not even worthwhile, you useless scumbag.

Jason just feels very strongly about his Vergil, okay.

“Will that be all?” he asks when he hands over the coffee, throwing in a grin. Jason hopes the cup scalds some if his fingers.  

The guy’s face is stony, and his reply is curt. “Yeah.”

“Alright, well, here’s your change—“

The guy is on the verge of saying something, and Jason wills him not to. Shit, Jason doesn’t want to deal with him longer than necessary right now, _don’t talk_.

Thing is, Jason doesn’t have ESP, so the next words out of the kid’s mouth are, “Are you even here, usually?”

The sound grates in Jason’s ears, but he answers anyway, sweet as can be. Superior customer service skills, remember? “No, I’m taking over for someone. Did you want me to tell Percy something?” The kid just shrugs.

Jason’s not used to this. He smiles, and customers respond, no matter their gender or sexual orientation. It’s a fact of life, like the blue of the sky or the green of the grass. Preferential treatment is just a perk of Jason’s blond hair, blue eyes, and easy laugh, he’s never dealt with the problems of mere mortals in this respect.

Jason may be miffed as he hands over the change, but he’s even more miffed when his latest customer spins around without putting a cent in the tip jar. It’s there in plain sight for a reason, and _goddammit_ , he’s practically working for minimum wage. He puts up with dreadful customers and coffee spills for the promise of extra padding from tips, so it’s only fair that said dreadful customers gain some common sense.

He doesn’t know what compels him to say it. The guy isn’t even the worst customer he’s ever had, nowhere close. The Argo II is one of those cozy, hole-in-the-wall places that attracts a strange mixture of customers. The sitting area in the back, filled with plush furniture and shag carpeting, is a constant attraction for university students disillusioned by mainstream coffee but not disillusioned enough to make their own damn coffee and not bother Jason with their complicated orders.

There’s Angry Goth Girl, who shows up every Sunday at two o’clock precisely, for one. You’d think someone so intent on breaking down the oppressive social order would find poets other than Sylvia Plath to quote. Equally Angry Biomedical Engineering Major is right up there on the list too, when he isn’t trying to get into Jason’s pants. Even his ex-girlfriend Piper is a pretty terrible customer, since she can’t stop making out with Annabeth every time she drops by. Point is, he’s had to deal with shitty customers before, so theoretically, Jason should be able to let it go.

“I’ve seen you here before, you know,” Jason calls out behind the guy. Leo may make quips about how Jason has his head too stuck up in his ass all the time, but he notices others when he wants to. Especially when they occupy their time on the back corner sofa, staring at their laptops with a concentration unmatched by any of their peers. Some regulars will drop by with their friends once in a while, but Jason has never seen this guy in the company of others. For good measure, and also because he’s in the mood to be an asshole, Jason says, “You always coordinate your coffee runs with Annabeth’s shifts.”

The guy freezes in his tracks. “I’m not in love with Annabeth, or anything you think.”

“I don’t _think_ anything. Except that you’re kind of rude.” _And, well, frankly, kind of beautiful._

The thought abruptly halts the angry tirade pounding through Jason’s head, surprises him to the point where his blood stops dead in his veins and his neurons fire overtime to get over the shock. He likes girls—most of the time—but when a boy stirs something up in the cockles of Jason’s heart (read: dick), they’re muscular and stocky and possess the strength to bend him over a table and have their wicked way with him. Skinny, angular, and messy black hair? Not his type, not at all. But, angry and blushing, the guy paints a pretty picture against the mundaneness of the shop. The fact that he doesn’t _know_ that he’s gorgeous doesn’t help matters. Jason has had attractive people throw themselves at him all his life, and this kid is a breath of fresh air.

Or would be, if he weren’t being an asshole.

“Look, man—“

“My name is Jason.”

His lip curls. “I can _read_. Look, Jason, I don’t know if you’re this interested in all of your customers’ private lives, but I can assure you I’m not after Annabeth. She’s just a friend.”

Of course, it’s right then that Percy chooses to burst in. Percy never does anything halfheartedly, so he enters with a flourish, lighting up the Argo II with his presence. There are leaves in his hair, and he trails more in, stuck to the bottom of his shoes. Guess who’s going to have to clean that up later, Jason thinks bitterly. He can already feel his hand cramping.

Snagging his apron from a hook behind the counter, Percy apologizes, “Shit, Jason, sorry I’m late. Swim practice again.”

He should be angry, but few can ever stay angry at Percy for long. Besides, Jason’s just happy he can leave now, can get away from this creepy kid who’s looking at Percy like he’s some sort of angel even in his neon orange regulation apron with garishly bright pink pockets—

 _Oh._ The kid who’s looking at Percy like he’s some sort of angel.

Percy notices the guy standing there, shifting back and forth like he’s seconds away from bolting. “Oh hey, Nico. Did you need anything?” His tone is friendly, but Jason’s been there, done that. Friendliness is worse than apathy, he knows all too well.

Nico shakes his head emphatically. “No, I’m okay.”

But even as an outsider, Jason can tell that he’s decidedly not.

* * *

Nico shows up again in Jason’s Thursday shift, blown in like a spirit on the wind.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were disappointed with me the last time we met?” Jason says as he’s wrestling with the espresso machine. It has a vendetta against him but works like a dream for anyone else. Him, though? He has to stroke it, whisper compliments into its surface, and press buttons at least five times before they respond. By the time Jason is done with his normal espresso-making routine, Nico’s regarding him through amused eyes.

Jason doesn’t have classes that morning, but judging from the dead-eyed freshmen who have been straggling into the Argo II all morning, the underclassmen haven’t been so lucky. Nico is just part of the crowd.

He orders the same drink as last time, but now, Jason is glad for the simplicity of the order. It gives him time to observe Nico over the counter. His hair is still wet from the shower, and he has a copy of Poe tucked under his arm. Jason snorts. Trust Nico to be a fan of the Romantics. All death, doom, and gloom, when they’re not too busy expounding on their own individuality and whining about how society will never accept them for the geniuses they are.

“I’m running on about three hours of sleep right now, I don’t need your shit.” The effect of the attempted glare is somewhat dampened by Nico’s drooping eyelids. He looks about two minutes from using the floor as a bed and the mat in front of the counter as a pillow, ignoring the germs and discomfort.

Jason nods to the book under Nico’s arm when he hands him his coffee. “Poe? I don’t remember him being on the course reading list.” Jason has lived through—slept through—freshman year English, and he doesn’t remember spending a prolonged amount of time under a rain cloud of sadness. “Are you an English major?”

Nico starts, and he glances back to make sure Jason is really speaking to him. The silence permeates the room, and when Nico turns around again, he still looks a little lost, like he’s wondering why Jason is engaging him in conversation at all. “Undecided, actually. But probably video game design or medieval history.”

Jason whistles. “That’s some decision you’ll have to make.”

Pushing back the hair from his forehead, Nico avoids Jason’s eyes. “Yeah, well, I have time.”

When Nico glances up for a moment, their eyes meet, a barely tangible moment of connection. Something in Jason’s gut tells him that he isn’t imagining it, but Nico rips his gaze away almost immediately. “You don’t have to be nice to me. Not for tips or anything. I’m just really broke, I’d tip if I could. Dad’s rich, but he says I have to learn the value of my coin, or something.”

“Harsh, dude.” That he’d been playing nice is news to Jason, maybe cordial at best, no more than he would for a regular customer. If this falls in Nico’s book as making nice, Jason wonders how people have been treating the kid his entire life. He’s suddenly aware of what Percy had mentioned the other day, after Nico had left. _He’s young and impressionable. Problems with his dad. Dead sister. Still recovering from a childhood that won’t let him go._

Stubborn asshole that he is, Jason had told Percy, emphatically, that he could make his own decisions, but maybe something rang true in Percy’s words.

For the first time, Jason notices Nico’s coat is just a little threadbare, his jeans just a little too faded to be fashionable. When Nico shifts his bag on his shoulder, ready to leave, a glint in the side pocket catches Jason’s eye. It only takes him two seconds to place it. He’s an absolute dork, and it’s not his fault geekiness has chosen to embrace him with open arms.

“You play Mythomagic?” It’s not an excited shriek. Jason prefers to believe that he comes off composed and professional. He’s twenty going on thirteen.

Nico eyes him warily. The shift is subtle, but Jason notices when he surreptitiously slides the card further into his pocket protectively. He folds in on himself. “What do you know about Mythomagic?”

Jason points to himself. “Classics major.” If he could lean over the counter, he would pin Nico’s thin wrists to his sides, get him to believe that not everyone’s out to get him, especially not a college student who makes coffee for a living and reads old books for fun.

But that’s unprofessional, and Jason doesn’t need Annabeth to fix him with her disappointed glare. Out of her repertoire of at least 134 assorted glares, that has to make the top ten most effective. Jason settles for asking, “Can I see your cards?”

 _“Mythomagic?_ You just don’t seem like the type.” Nico looks at Jason, and all he sees is a pretty face and muscles. His assumed lack of depth is doing wonders for his self-esteem, thanks for asking.

Jason’s feeling a little snarky and a lot tired of Nico’s shit when he shoots back, “And you look like you write wannabe Romantic poetry in your free time. You hardly seem the type either.”

A look of consideration passes through Nico’s eyes before he seems to reach a resolution. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out the deck and places it in Jason’s outstretched hand.

Jason cradles the cards in his hand before fanning them out on the table. Nico is one of those players, the kind that uses his cards for they reason they were made—actual playing. His cards are bent at the corners and ripped at the edges, a stark contrast to the ones Jason used to own, protected in their clear plastic sleeves.

“I’ve never seen this deck before.”

“Africanus Extreme expansion deck.” There’s a hint of pride in Nico’s voice. “More attack power, better defensive moves, better graphics.”

“Huh, I see they’ve finally made it so Achilles and Patroclus look like they’re about to screw.”

“Better historical accuracy too,” Nico says. A grin tugs at the corner of Nico’s mouth, and that goes the same for Jason. It’s simple, so simple to get caught up in this. The nostalgia has Jason’s thoughts swirling, and the fond smile seems permanently fastened to his face as he sifts through the pack. “You know, it was Mythomagic that made me realize I wanted to be a Classics major in the first place. I always wanted to learn the stories behind the cards. The heroes, the monsters, the gods…”

“Dude,” Nico says, “don’t make me feel bad. All Mythomagic made me realize was that I really like making fake shooting noises during attacks.”

“Perfectly valid epiphany.”

“Not when the shooting noises sounded like dying cats.”

Nico isn’t smiling, exactly, but he’s not the surly kid who walked through the door last week either. That kid hadn’t the slightest inkling of where he could fit in, has never been told he would. This guy, though, he’s getting there. Nico is tangled up in his one-sided romance with Percy, and maybe that’s what makes Jason reach out, safe in the knowledge that Nico’s already spoken for. Jason likes it that way, likes the invisible barrier that will prevent Nico from making Shitty Decisions. Said Shitty Decisions being Jason fucking Grace, of course.

Jason says, “Do you still…?”

“Play? Nah, there’s a new video game, but it’s not…”

“The same?” Jason finishes. “Yeah, I get it.”

* * *

They settle into a sort of routine after that. Being pseudo-friends with Nico di Angelo is nothing like Jason would have expected. For one, there are no ritual animal sacrifices involved. Instead, his acquaintance with Nico di Angelo seems to consist of borrowed books, badly-made coffee, and, of course, Mythomagic. Jason cracks open the shoe-box collecting dust underneath his bed, and Nico makes fun of his deplorable lack of valuable cards. It’s only fair, though. Jason will never pass up a chance to take the piss out of Nico’s choice of reading material.

The kid is going through an Allen Ginsberg phase, for God’s sake. He’s all kinds of cliché wrapped up in the body of a scrawny college freshman. Passing up this kind of opportunity would be a crime.  Jason almost feels guilty about it, but the wieldy thick-framed glasses Nico shows up wearing one day make it all too easy.

It happens in stages, how Nico di Angelo manages to ingratiate himself into Jason’s life until he’s a permanent fixture, fitting into Jason’s daily routine as easily as his homework or daily fix of rocky road ice cream. And Jason’s been addicted to that particular flavor since he was fifteen and needed a food obsession to accompany long nights spent yelling at disgruntled college literature students over the Internet. When he realizes Nico’s rare smiles have become as necessary as the delicious swirls of chocolate on chocolate, it frightens him to the point where he avoids Nico for the next few days, ducking into the kitchen whenever Nico drops by.

But Nico’s like some sort of addicting drug, maybe rocky road ice cream mixed with nicotine and little bit of crack cocaine, so it only takes one frown at Jason’s obvious dismissal—Nico will deny that he’s capable of pouting to the end of time—for Jason to come running back. Tired of Jason and Nico holding entire conversations across the length of the shop, Annabeth has even moved the beaten-up sofa in the back to a spot near the side counter. It’s almost like Nico leaves dents in the upholstery even when he’s not there, and Jason can see the phantom shapes he leaves behind.

What remains unspoken still hangs over them, the elephant in the room that threatens to break down the fragile bond they share. And if the elephant comes in the form of a messy-haired, underachieving college sophomore with too much time on his hands, Jason and Nico don’t exactly talk about it. Nico’s eyes follow Percy around the shop like he’s the only thing they know, and if Nico regresses to a bumbling preteen whenever Percy so much as glances his way, they don’t talk about that either.

It’s simple, so simple to get caught up in this, and Jason vaguely wonders when he’d started associating simplicity with someone who’s never known the meaning of the word. Nico is a little bit lost and a little bit beautiful, and that makes for a combination that leaves Jason more than a little bit confused.

He’s pondering about it, once, when he’s marathoning the latest season of Doctor Who with Leo. From an outsider’s perspective, Nico’s crush on Percy simply makes no sense. They’re polar opposites, and if Jason learned anything from high school psychology, it’s that “opposites attract” is the biggest piece of bullshit invented by hopeless romantics everywhere.

But Nico is only human. Percy is chivalrous, good-looking, and funny enough to mask his biggest fault—he’s almost too noble for his own good. True, Percy had said the same thing about Jason, but you know what? Jason has grown up on stories of Roman heroes and mythical quests. He’s allowed.

Jason’s mind is still fixated on analyzing Nico—and okay, it’s a habit, he’s a goddamn _Classics major—_ when Leo makes a joke about Moffat.

It’s not even a particularly clever one, and Jason has heard them all before, but if the _my friend would probably agree_ piqued Leo’s interest, the quick _he’s just a friend_ has him hook, line, and sinker.

“He’s a customer.” Jason picks at his popcorn bowl. Only kernels still remain, but he’s determined to make the most out of them. “We just talk sometimes, that’s all.”

Leo, unfortunately, has no desire to relish the kernels while he can. If the popcorn pelting Jason’s side is any indication, Leo is a dirty popcorn-waster. “Do most of your customers make you blush like an idiot or are you really that desperate to get laid?”

“I don’t—“ His red face probably won’t do anything to prove his point. “Dude, not everything is about sex.”

“Wait, are we still doing that thing where you deny that you like dudes? Because after that time I caught you with Octav—“

Jason shoves his fingers into his ears. He’s never been in a relationship with a man—he shies away from relationships, period. But dabbling isn’t entirely off-limits. “I told you that we’re not talking about that. Ever. That was a poor decision on my part, and an even poorer decision on your part when you walked in without _knocking._ ”

“If you were gay—“

Fucking hell, Jason should never have introduced Leo to musicals, he’s become a nightmare.

When Jason has finally talked Leo down from an impromptu Avenue Q sing-along and insisted that he’s _bisexual, stop being so monosexist,_ he’s pretty much exhausted. Clara and Eleven are still bantering in the background, but Jason and Leo are hardly paying attention. Jason has his arm slung over his stomach, ready to drift off, when Leo decides he has to have the last word.

“You know, I always wondered what you saw in Octavian. He always struck me as a tad bit, well, violent. And didn’t he think he could tell the future? Oh man, I remember when he predicted your wedding. Good times, Grace. Good times.”

Jason ends up dumping the bowl of popcorn over Leo’s head.

* * *

The beginning of the end comes in the form of a pretty blond boy who, surprisingly enough, isn’t Jason. Or, if Jason wants to get into the nitpicky details of the ordeal, maybe it’s the end of the beginning. The end of quick conversations over coffee orders and borrowed books. The end of  knowing but not _knowing_ Nico di Angelo. The end of easy, and simple, and uncomplicated.

His name is Luke Castellan, and the first thought running through Jason’s mind when he sees him is _eyes_ , swiftly followed by _holy fucking shit, Percy Jackson likes dudes._  At least, that’s what the possessive hand in Percy’s back pocket indicates, and if Jason’s first reaction is to attribute it to a spot of platonic fondling between close friends, that thought quickly dissipates when the blond plants a chaste kiss on Percy’s lips. Percy blushes—honest to goodness _blushes_. It’s the goddamn weirdest shit Jason has ever seen, and he’s seen Leo try to flirt. He thought he’d seen it all.

“What do you think?” Percy asks Jason when Luke is happily situated into a corner booth, sipping expensive imported tea. Percy looks all too happy for someone caught at work the day before a major school break, and, if his face had held half the endearment it does now when he’d been dating Annabeth, no wonder she had put up with him for so long.

“New boyfriend?”

“You mean your fuck-buddy?” Annabeth bites back.

Percy gestures wildly with a cup filled with the brim with hot cappuccino, and Jason has to wonder if the new boyfriend had actually managed to suck out Percy’s brain through his cock, if it had ever resided inside his skull in the first place. “Just because we don’t like labels…”

“I hardly think two weeks of intense sex—in the dorm room next to mine, I may add—qualifies you and Luke for relationship status. That’s reserved for people who actually understand the concept of stability.”

“Like you and Piper?” Jason has always wondered how Percy can keep the bitterness out of his voice when discussing his ex-girlfriend’s relationship with her new girlfriend, but the grin he flashes erases all possible malicious interpretations of his words.

Annabeth flicks her towel at Percy. “Yes, now that you mention it. Piper and I are the exact definition of stability.”

Now is probably not the time to mention the epic fight they’d had in the kitchen last Monday. Still, Piper and Annabeth are well-versed in the art of making up, and that particular row had ended with suspicious-sounding noises Jason refused to investigate.

Because it’s probably polite, and because Jason’s honestly curious, he asks, “So how did you two meet?”

Percy flashes a grin, and the only word Jason can possibly use to describe the dewy look in his eyes is lovesick. Hell, this is even more entertaining than Leo’s short-lived gym rat phase, which had ended with the emphatic declaration that girls can love muscles all they want, but Leo isn’t going to conform to their unrealistic expectations, no sir. Leo Valdez is an individual. Percy says, “I met him through Annabeth, actually.” If Annabeth’s snort is anything to go by, there’s more to the story than that. “I really like him.”

Annabeth’s eyes grow soft, a look Jason has only seen grace her features when she’s baking a particularly chewy batch of cookies or has correctly balanced the ratio of coffee to milk in an order. It suits her. “Be careful. You know Luke isn’t the most trustworthy of people.”

Percy’s lips thin. “I know what I’m getting myself into.” Annabeth ducks her head, attention suddenly occupied with wiping down a small spill in the corner.

Later, when Percy is happily whiling away his break with Luke, Annabeth gives a little sad shake of her head. Her expression is pitying. “Give it thirty minutes, and they’ll be fighting again.”

Jason pauses where he’s pouring a liberal amount of chocolate syrup over a mound of whipped cream. “Again?”

“Luke Castellan doesn’t _do_ simple. I don’t think he understands how relationships can function without conflict thrown in to spice them up. Percy and Luke have been screwing for weeks. Why do you think Percy hasn’t introduced him to us until now?” Jason’s eyes involuntarily travel over to Luke and Percy, happily wrapped up in each other. They’re so sweet Jason wants to gag, and Luke looks about two seconds away from feeding Percy bites of his chocolate cheesecake.

“They look perfect happy to me.”

“Thirty minutes,” Annabeth says again. She doesn’t even bother to give them another glance.

Annabeth is wrong. It only takes twenty minutes for the shouting to begin.

Jason isn’t quite sure what had sparked the fight, but when they fight, they _fight._ There’s a lot of male posturing and _you don’t understand me’s_ involved. Jason feels like he’s in the middle of a soap opera, and not a particularly inventive one at that. Annabeth looks like she’s verging on throwing them out, but she seems almost amused, like she’s getting some sort of perverse pleasure out of this. A red-faced Percy Jackson is something Jason has never seen before and something he’s not quite sure he ever wants to see again. Distress and anger don’t fit Percy.

“Shit, Luke, you’d do anything, won’t you?” The words are aimed to hurt, and Percy delivers them in a way that makes Luke flinch back like he’s been stabbed. It’s strange, Jason thinks, how the people you care about the most know all the best ways to hurt you.

“Fucking shit.” Luke throws a couple of crumpled dollar bills into the table between them. “At least I have ambition. Here, you can keep the change. You need the tips.”

With that, he strides toward the door without sparing a glance back at Percy. The other man stands there, his mouth slightly agape, before he takes off, flying after the blond. His shoes skid on the sidewalk, but he manages to grab hold of the hem of Luke’s shirt anyway, halting his steps. It’s just like Percy to skip out on his own shift. Next thing you know, Annabeth will ask Jason to fill in, and he’ll do it because he’s a goddamn nice guy. Percy’s tumultuous love life has more of an impact on Jason’s life than Jason’s own love life does.

Annabeth checks her watch. “Right, so another thirty minutes and they’ll be back together, no doubt about it.”

“You’re not bothered by it?”

It’s Jason’s turn to get flicked by the towel, but the slap against his skin is decidedly less sharp than it was for Percy. Annabeth gives him an indulgent smile. “Love is strange. You have couples who fall in love so absolutely that they’ll never fight. They just fit like that. Then there’s those two. Fight like cats and dogs, you hardly even know they’re together.”

The only serious relationship he’d had was with Piper, so maybe Jason’s not primed for understanding things like this. “Isn’t it unhealthy?”

“Grace, when is love ever not a little bit unhealthy?”

It seems like wishy-washy mumbo-jumbo to him, but he’s always been a little oblivious to the inner workings of Love with a capital L. Jason and relationships don’t quite mix, and once, he’d wondered if the relationship gene had been lost on the Grace siblings. Thalia had sworn off boys at age fifteen and never looked back, and Jason, well, Jason hardly notices flirting unless he’s hit over his head with it, forced to open his eyes and see that _hey, this person really wants into your pants, maybe you should give it a shot._ It had happened with Reyna, and it had happened with Piper, too. Two beautiful girls who had decided to pin their hopes on him. Like, great, thanks for all the luck I never asked for, God.

But then Thalia had met Reyna, and Jason was forced to amend his assessment: the relationship gene is fitted into Thalia’s DNA just fine, but Jason? He’ll never fully understand how to navigate the ins and outs of love. But if it’s one thing he and Thalia both lack, it’s the straight gene, so there’s that. Whoop-de-doo, give it up for genetics.

Complicated relationships are completely lost on Jason, so when Percy and Luke come ambling back inside thirty minutes later and Annabeth resets her mental relationship clock, he can’t help but think how futile it all is. But Percy goes over to plant a big one on Luke, and okay, maybe they’re a little bit dysfunctional and a lot hopeless, but a part of Jason wants a relationship like that, one where the only opinions that matter are those of him and the future love of his life. Jason wipes down the counter while feeling like absolute shit, and maybe he’s a little bit hopeless too.

* * *

News travels fast, and maybe Jason should have expected this. Any good friend would be poised at the counter with reassurances waiting on the tip of his tongue, but when Nico barrels in only five hours later, there’s nothing Jason can offer. Not empty niceties, not comforting pats on his arm. Few things can smooth over the pains of love, much less the lack thereof.  

Still, Jason has never seen Nico like this, his whole body moving with his words, his expression manic to the point of worry. Usually, Nico looks like he’s on the verge of disappearing inside himself, but the wide arcs his arms make leave him open, vulnerable.

“Was Percy in here earlier? I heard—“ When Jason doesn’t reply, his face crumbles. “Fuck. Fucking _hell_.” His knuckles turn white where he’s gripping the counter, long fingers bent at an angle Jason swears is five degrees from breaking. Two spots of color dance on his cheeks, and, shit, Jason really has to look away. He’s never been good with watching other people’s breakdowns, and Nico’s blinking at warp-speed right now, pressing his eyelids together to keep the tears back.

Jason coughs. Nudging the napkin dispenser towards Nico seems like a grand idea, but the guy doesn’t seem the type to take pity without asking questions. “Are you okay, or—“

“You don’t even know…how could you know…” Nico inhales deeply, but his breath hitches when he sees what Jason has been reading on his laptop. A laugh tears itself out of his throat, and once he starts, he can’t stop. The transition from short, barking guffaws to high-pitched giggles—and back again—is effortless, and now is probably a shitty time to realize that he likes this Nico, one who gives in to emotion without a second thought. Likes, and, if he’s being honest, just a bit scared of him. “You’re reading Catullus 16?”

“Classics major,” Jason says.

“No, but.” Nico’s eyes are fixed to the screen. He hiccups. “Catullus says some seriously fucked-up shit in there.”

Jason reaches a hand out to Nico before abruptly pulling it back. If there’s one thing he’s learned about him, it’s that touches, even the most innocent ones, turn him into an abrasive bundle of teenage angst. “Nico, you don’t have to say it, if you don’t want.”

Trust Percy to be the catalyst for all this. Nico’s world revolves around him, even when he’s not physically present.

Nico only barrels forward. “I mean, if anyone were to use some choice words from _Pedicabo ego vos et irrumabo_ at me, they wouldn’t even be insults. To me, I mean.”

“Nico—“

It takes one, two, three seconds for the words to hit Nico’s ears. Jason counts the beats in his head, the silence oppressive. He doesn’t know what to say, really, just that, well, Nico looks like he’s about to enter a full-on panic attack. Jason is almost knocked over by his own desire to protect Nico from himself.

“Shit, did I really just say that? Shit, shit _shit_ ,” His hands grapple at the buttons on his coat, pulling aviator jacket tighter around his body. “I shouldn’t have.”

One thing you should know about Jason? He’s pretty shit at dealing with emotions. Shoving Nico’s usual coffee order at him isn’t his best idea to date, but it’s the only thing Jason can do. He’s great at dealing with words on a page, but terrifically horrible at dealing with them in real life. Man of action, he is. “Nico, calm down. Please, you’re okay.”

Jason knows the comfort is inadequate, but he’s trying, he is. He can’t say what’s really on his mind. Nico will run, run, run and never look back. The kid has lower self-esteem than anyone else Jason knows, and it’ll take several baseball bats and superhuman strength to beat into Nico’s head that people care about him.

Specifically, that there’s a very blond, slightly emotionally-stunted university student-slash-part-time barista who wants to wrap Nico up in blankets and feed him soup until some color flows back into his pale cheeks. Who wants to introduce Nico to all his friends because, hey, there’s this genuinely nice guy whom people don’t appreciate nearly often enough, caught up as they are in his prickly exterior. Who wants to tell him that Percy Jackson isn’t worth getting angry about, but Jason is glad Nico thinks he is, because Jason has gotten so tired of dancing around the subject that he’d been ready to bring it up himself.

Man, that would have been awkward. Throw in a casual _hey, Nico, do you have a huge gay crush on an attainable straight guy who turned out to not be so straight after all?_

Jason may be emotionally stunted, but he’s no idiot. Usually.

When in doubt, crack bad jokes. “I have to give you hipster points for that at least. Coming out by referencing a poem containing the Latin equivalent of ‘I will sodomize and face-fuck you’? Not exactly conventional. Kudos to you for rejecting mainstream tearful confessions.”

“You’re not acting very surprised,” Nico says, suspicious.

The air deflates out of Jason, and he feels his shoulders slump. There’s no pride in foreknowledge here. “Nico, I already knew.”

“But how?”

“I’m not sure you want me to say it.”

Nico chuckles, but the amusement factor seems a little lacking. “Is it because of the skinny jeans? My sister did warn me I was the epitome of gay cliché.”

Jason winces. “You’re not very subtle when it comes to Percy.”

Nico shoves his hands through his hair until it sticks up in black electric-shock spikes. He looks like a mad scientist, or an artist, or someone with an obsession they can’t shake.  “Have you told him?”

“What kind of person do you think I am?”

“You barely know me, there’s no reason for you to owe me anything.” Nico begins playing with a straw, pulling off the end of the wrapper and bunching up the other end. Smashing paper against a counter may not seem particularly difficult at first glance, but Nico seems to think so, absorbed as he is in his task. “You’re friends with Percy.”

“And I’m not friends with you?” When Nico doesn’t answer, Jason sighs. “We’ve known each other for _weeks._ I let you eat free cheesecake and make snarky comments about customers under your breath while they’re right there. Annabeth has threatened me because of that, you know. Every day, I risk her wrath to talk to you, and trust me, you haven’t seen wrath before Annabeth Chase. Now, tell me we’re not friends?”

All Nico can manage are blushing splutters, and it’d be adorable, if he weren’t so damn frustrating. Screw Nico di Angelo and his personal space problems, if Jason wants to casually reach out a hand toward his friend, he’s the only one who has control of his own destiny.

At first touch, Nico’s bare arm is warm—warmer than Jason would have expected. Nico is ice at first glance, and his chilliness doesn’t disappear with time. Maybe Jason had been holding out for sub-zero temperature, never mind scientific fact. But he definitely hadn’t expected normal 96 degrees Fahrenheit, which, for some reason, feels warmer against the tips of Jason’s fingers than it normally would. Tingly, almost.

Nico tenses, but Jason continues pressing down, wrapping a strong hand around Nico’s forearm. Standing on his tiptoes and about to slip on the still-wet floor, Jason wonders how he got himself into this mess in the first place, the sole means of comfort for an actual human being. One he feels obligated to take care of. Worse, one he actually wants to take care of.

“I didn’t tell Percy, I swear. He’s a friend, but he’s not…” He’s not an excitable Mythomagic player, or a wearer of perpetually holey Converses. He doesn’t enjoy frappucinos when it’s sleeting outside, and Jason’s willing to bet he doesn’t take them without milk either, the mainstream bastard. “He’s not you.”

See, this is why Jason is crap at emotions. Shit spews out of his mouth before he can give it a second thought, and he ends up scaring his fiends away with the sheer force of his awkward.

“So, um,” Jason says, “don’t worry about it. I haven’t told him and I’m never going to.”

It’s Jason’s turn to avoid Nico’s eyes. For once, he’s hoping this slow part of the day will speed up. Seriously, how hard is it for a random passerby to walk through the entrance and interrupt the silence? Opening the door can’t require that much effort. Jason should hire an on-call door-opener specially reserved for situations like these.

Finally, Nico sets the straw down. It’s been bent into an approximation of a bow, but if this exemplifies Nico’s gift-wrapping abilities, Jason feels sorry for the state of Nico’s birthday presents. He sucks in a breath, quick and rasping. “I met him in high school.”

“You don’t have to do this.” Jason says it like a question, but he already knows Nico’s answer.

Nico spares him a wan smile, but it’s belied by the fact that he looks a bit like he’s about to vomit. “No, I kind of do. I’ve never really fit in? Too excited about the wrong things, not excited enough about the right things, didn’t help that my sister and I were joined together at the hip either. Percy was the first guy who was ever nice to me.” He ducks his head. “Shit, I’ve become a cliché.”

“Sorry, kiddo, but you were a cliché long before this. At least you’ve subverted the gay boy falls for straight boy joke. Been there, done that, and it’s not pretty.”

Nico just stares at him. It’s getting a bit uncomfortable, and if his eyes bug out any more, they’re going to fall right out of his head. Jason just kind of stares back, because there’s no way Nico hasn’t realized yet. He doesn’t know how he could make it any more obvious, short of making wild, passionate love to a guy right there on the counter, and he’s not too fond of being fired for violating health codes.

If Nico hasn’t noticed that Jason has been flirting with all of his customers in equal amounts, regardless of gender, he needs toothpicks to hold open his eyes, because really. Jason nearly gives his phone number to one of the regulars, a computer science major with shining white teeth and muscles that Jason can imagine holding him down as he’s getting fucked, every day. He only refrains from doing so because he’s fairly sure the guy has his eye on someone else—someone dark-haired, and female, and also currently dating Annabeth.

“You—you—what?”

Jason rolls his eyes. “Bisexual, actually. Hey, at least you’ve got the crappy gaydar part of the trope down.”

Nico is still doing his best imitation of a goldfish when Luke breezes through the door, letting in a gust of cold hair. Seriously, does this guy understand timing at all? Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jason is rational enough to realize that Luke isn’t exactly responsible for his inopportune entrances, but he can’t help but resent him a little when he waltzes up to the counter, usual easy grin on his face. Jason instinctively reaches for a cup, but Luke waves him down when he does.

“I don’t want coffee, I’m just here to see if Percy’s in.” He’s holding a latte from Gaia’s Coffee, the blue and black coloring unmistakable. They’re the Argo II’s biggest rivals, and the dismissal is undeniable. Like, hey, your shop sells shitty coffee, but I’m willing to grace it with my presence for the sake of appeasing my on-and-off-boyfriend, whom, now that I think about it, I don’t even communicate with well enough to know when he’ll be working and when he’s won’t be.

Gaia’s place doesn’t even make good coffee. It’s all watered-down bullshit with pretty labels slapped on to appeal to the hipsters who frequent the place. There’s a 90% chance that only Mac owners have ever crossed its threshold, and they even hold _regular slam poetry readings_. “Prententious” would be an understatement.

Jason decides he dislikes Luke immediately.

“He’s sick, actually.” Jason smiles, saccharine sweet. It hurts his teeth. “Do you want me to give him a message next time I see him?”

Damn, sassy Jason doesn’t come out too often, but even he’s a little bit shocked at his own behavior. He’s not usually like this, and he’s always been considered the typical nice guy, but something in Nico’s panicked eyes brings out his inner asshole. And Nico does look panicked, clutching his coffee cup to his chest. A spot of brown liquid has collected on his white shirt where Jason hadn’t quite closed the lid properly. Nico doesn’t notice.  

Jason can see Nico measuring himself up to Luke, and, sure enough, after Luke leaves him a huff, Nico turns to Jason and says, “Of course Percy has to go and date someone like that.”

“I _know_ ,” Jason says, “I hate those blond, tall, smart, athletic types too. They ruin everything for everyone.”

There’s a beat before Nico catches on. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

Jason makes himself a macchiato and tops it off with a squirt of caramel. What Annabeth doesn’t know won’t hurt her, and Jason figures he deserves a reward for putting up with this shit. “Yes, you did. And it’s not, you know. Not that great, I mean.”

“You’re one to talk.” He sounds so bitter like this that Jason has to intervene. 

It’s time, he thinks, to go big or go home. With an arm, Jason slides the napkin holder and instant coffee packets out of the way. He leans over the fake marble, and when Nico leans back instinctively, Jason catches his arm with a hand to pull him in. Their faces are so close that their breaths mingle.

“What if I told you that Luke doesn’t matter? That I could somehow get Percy to forget about him and notice you instead?”

“I would tell you that you were dropped on the head as a child.”

“But what if I _could_?”

“It’s a moot point, because you _can’t_ , Jason. I don’t need you to save me. I’m perfectly fine without Percy Jackson, and I don’t need you to meddle.” Jason’s eyes are glazing over as his mind runs through the possibilities, and Nico claws at his arm, desperate. “No, no, no, Jason Grace, don’t you dare do this to me.” He snaps his fingers in front of Jason’s eyes. “Come back to me here. Don’t think about it. I know how you get when you start thinking about things, and you’re headed down a very futile path right now.”

“Okay,” Jason says.

Nico blinks. “Just like that, you’ll stop?”

Jason resists the urge to ruffle Nico’s hair. He’s always been too stubborn for his own good. It comes with being a Grace, but that stubbornness is going to come in handy now. “I didn’t say _that._ ”

* * *

The first thing Piper does when Jason goes to her for advice his laugh in his face. It’s swiftly followed by a sharp reprimand, a barking order to get back to his intense salad-tossing, but a smile still catches at her lips when she bends back to the pasta sauce she’s stirring. Either Jason is paranoid as fuck or the smile is all too condescending. Either way, Jason isn’t sure he should have come to Piper in the first place, but her mother was a professional matchmaker. At the very least, Piper may have learned something through simple observation.  

“It’s not that funny.” Even the wilted lettuce sitting in the salad bowl seems intent on making a mockery out of Jason. It resists his attempt to coax it back into a palatable formation, and no matter how he tries to hide it underneath greener leaves, its sickly hue still peeks out. That’s it, everyone and everything is conspiring against him, no doubt about it. May as well give up on the world and live as a salad-less hermit. If he were a hermit, maybe he would have the good sense not to agree to help Piper cook for this dinner. The only things Jason knows how to cook are Ramen and cereal, and that’s debatable at best. Piper had countered his protests by reminding him Leo will eat practically anything anyway.

“Sure, it is. Nico and Percy? Did you even think this through?”

“Nico likes Percy, don’t pretend you haven’t noticed.”

“But Percy doesn’t like him back. Don’t pretend you haven’t noticed _that_.”

It’s painfully obvious Piper is right, but that doesn’t stop Jason from insisting, “Minds can be changed.”

“Nico has had this crush for years, and Percy has never given any hint of reciprocating his feelings.” Piper winds her arms around his neck and lays her head on his shoulder. “Why do you care so much?”

“I don’t like Luke. And I like Nico. Look, Nico deserves to be happy. He’s not as bad as people seem to think, and Percy can’t see that.”

“Doesn’t give you the right to mess with someone’s love life.”

Different tactic, it is. Piper is one of the most down-to-earth girls Jason knows, especially unusual considering her father’s fame, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t know how to stroke her ego. Everyone wants to feel useful, at least once in a while. “Please, Piper. I wouldn’t come to anyone but you. You’re the best person to ask about this.”

He does the thing with his eyes, and Piper balks. To be quite honest, Jason doesn’t exactly know the specifics of his pleading puppy eyes, as Piper had dubbed them, but he thinks it’s a little bit of eye-widening, a little spice of twitching, and a whole lot of looking like he’s on the verge of tears. His go-tos are usually Leo’s attempts at getting girls or the entirety of I Can See the Light from Tangled. Both make him want to sob in equal amounts.

Piper brandishes her spoon at him, and a little spray of sauce lands on Jason’s white shirt. “Do _not_ do this to me.”

Jason does, though. He’s such a rebel.

“You’re a little shit. Why did I ever go out with you?”

“I’m adorable, let’s face it. Now, are you going to help me?”

Piper exhales loudly before pulling out a chair and plopping herself down. “The easiest way is to think about this using basic psychology. People will tell you a lot of bullshit about matchmaking, but in the end, it’s all mere exposure…”

* * *

Jason waits until Percy and Luke’s next fight. He doesn’t have to wait long, and he’s probably a shitty person for getting a perverse pleasure out of seeing Percy’s dejected face the next day, his listless movements as he putters about behind the counter. He seems mechanic, and even when Jason begins bringing up swimming—a subject Percy can’t shut up about—Percy only nods unenthusiastically.

 _Go big or go home_ , Jason reminds himself.

“A blind date. Are you kidding me?” Percy says.

“Piper suggested it. And, at the very least, it’s going to make Luke jealous.”

“I don’t play games like that,” is what Percy says next, but Jason can already tell Percy is intrigued by the idea. Jason isn’t judging him, and anyway, who is he to judge when he’d planned this? Smugness has never sat well on Jason, but he can’t help but pat himself on the back, just a little.   

“I swear, Cara’s really nice. And you have a lot in common. She likes…water too.” She’s 70% water, god, it stands to reason that she likes it, right? In the same way she likes living? No matter, Percy won’t get hurt by a little truth doctoring.

That’s how Jason finds himself pacing behind the counter the following Friday night, neglecting his clean-up duties in favor of keeping a constant eye on Percy’s spot in a booth near the window. Percy had opted for meeting his date here, so Jason can clean up the mess in case she turns out to be an absolute troll. They’re heading to that new Italian place down the block after. It’s fancy, but not fancy to the point of high risk. If Percy had his way, they would have gone to Olive Garden, but thank God Jason has more sense than that. He’s refined.

Percy is lazily picking at a double chocolate chip cookie, only eating the chocolate instead of the cookie itself. The guy has always had strange eating habits, and they’re only exacerbated by his nervousness. His legs jitter against a metal leg of the table, and Jason is glad he’d shoved Percy into a corner booth. Tips depend on flirty men and women charmed by the Argo II’s admittedly better than average-looking employees, and if the customers wandering in catch sight of Percy stressed out over a potential date and acting like any other human being, their credibility will be shot to hell.

It’s fifteen minutes past seven, and a smile is already lighting up Jason’s face. His thumbs are still sore from rapidly texting Nico earlier, but his phone hangs at his sides now, as he waits for the scene to play out.

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later and right on cue, Nico ambles in, clutching a copy of The Symposium to his chest. Nico had protested when Jason first tried to lend him a copy. Jason had never interacted with the guy outside of the shop, but he can already tell he’s not out to too many people, and even for those lucky few, he hasn’t been out for long. Reading a book with blatant queer themes is bound to kick his purported heterosexuality down a few notches. Nico di Angelo can protest up a storm, but he’s still a little lost kid looking for support that was never given to him, and judging from the protective way he holds the book—Jason’s personal copy—Jason had hit the nail on the head.

Jason waits until Nico has spotted Percy, hastily trying to hide the book Jason doubts Percy will even notice, before dropping the bomb.  “Shit, Percy, Cara’s mother is in the hospital. She can’t come.”

Percy swears under his breath. “I told you it would go badly. Grace, your plans suck.”

Oh, but the plan is going just fine, Percy Jackson, just you wait.

“You had a date tonight?” Nico says, and there’s an undercurrent of trepidation in his voice as he waits for Percy’s answer.

Percy flushes scarlet, so Jason intervenes before this can get even more awkward. “Blind date. Percy doesn’t want to admit he agreed to one.”

“You were the one who offered to set it up.”

“Hey, you looked sad, and when you’re sad, you miss shifts. I did it for my own well-being, really.” The question is clear in Nico’s eyes as he appraises Jason, but _just wait._ Jason Grace is an absolute genius. If there were a Nobel Prize in matchmaking, he should win it. “Didn’t you have to make reservations though? It would be a shame to waste them.”

“Huh,” Percy says, glancing down at his watch. Nico makes slashing motions across his throat. Jason chooses to ignore him, because he’s that kind of asshole. When Percy looks back up, Jason straightens himself out, schooling his face into the epitome of innocence. “I did make reservations for 7:30, and it was pretty hard it get them as it was.”

“Perfect! So you should go.” Jason is the actual real life eHarmony, swear to God.

“Can you conjure up a date in two seconds?”

“How about Nico?”

To his credit, Nico manages to catch the book before it falls out of his hands in surprise. “What?”

Percy shrugs. “I’m cool with it. You wanted to see if it was genuine Italian food, right? Now you can order and wow everyone with your Italian-speaking abilities.”

“But—“

“ _Chill_ , man. We’re friends. Friends are allowed to have vaguely romantic dinners together without their relationship being called into question.”

“But the restaurant has candlelight. _Candlelight.”_

“Are you seriously passing up good food?”

It takes Nico a moment, but eventually, he throws his hands up in defeat. “Fine, sheesh, I’ll go.”

 **Nico (Sent at 7:45 PM):** I hate you so much, get me out of here. i know exactly what you’re doing, and it’s not going to work.

 **Jason (Sent at 7:46 PM):** I have no idea what you’re talking about

 **Nico (Sent at 7:45 PM):** I don’t even know what to talk to him about you jackass.

 **Jason (Sent at 7:50 PM):** idk flirt or something

 **Nico (Sent at 7:53 PM):** did you just tell me to flirt???

Did you forget who you’re talking to?

Flirt isn’t in my vocabulary.

 **Nico (Sent at 8:30 PM):** fuck this is so awkward I’m getting out of here are you still working

 **Jason (Sent at 8:31 PM):** I’m at home. Why?

 **Nico (Sent at 8:32 PM):** I want to get spectacularly drunk and forget all about tonight.

 **Jason (Sent at 8:32 PM):** fuck no STAY

 **Nico (Sent at 8:34 PM):** too bad I’ve already made an excuse to leave.

 **Jason (Sent at 8:34 PM):** shit just come over then. 433 magnolia dr. it’s to your left. I have wine.

 **Nico (Sent at 8:35 PM):** ps you got into a car accident, and percy’s about to call and see if you’re okay. _One_ of us had to go and check for sure.

* * *

After he throws his phone down on his bed, Jason rubs the sleep from his eyes. He’d been looking forward to an early night. Now, on top of the lack of sleep, he has to deal with a whole host of new complications. Giving out his address adds a whole new dimension to his friendship with Nico. It seems more real, somehow, to extend their friendship outside of the four walls of the Argo II. He doesn’t know how he’ll handle seeing Nico outside of the context of the shop, and logically, it should have happened bynow. But what he had with Nico felt like a secret, and sometimes, secrets just don’t hold up when reality comes crashing in.

Jason’s apartment isn’t anything grand, just a two-bedroom near campus, in a complex usually filled with students too cool for the college dorm deal but not cool enough to actually live anywhere that wasn’t essentially a glorified, bigger version of a dorm. At least he has his own kitchen. That’s a plus. But easy access to food only fuels his late-night snack cravings, and he’s been putting in more hours at the gym this year than ever before.

The place is in a constant state of disarray—two college-age boys aren’t exactly the most organized or the most responsible beings to occupy shared living spaces—but Jason manages to shove the mess under various pieces of furniture. He moves around in a flurry, and when Nico bangs on the door, Jason has just finished throwing an old t-shirt behind the TV.

Jason has barely gotten the door open when Nico shuffles in, collapsing on Jason’s couch with a resolute sigh. At least Leo’s out at some party with Piper. Jason doesn’t even want to think about the jokes he could have come up with if he’d been here.

“Wine?” Nico holds out a hand.

“It’s cheap. I’m poor,” Jason warns has he hands over the bottle.

“Does this look like the face of someone who gives a shit? No, it is not. Just get me drunk. You got me into this mess.”

Thirty minutes later, Jason and Nico are sprawled across the sofa, both too full of alcohol to move and too discombobulated to manage more than a few feet without falling over on his ass. Nico is lazily picking at a hole in the cushion, where the stuffing is tufting through. It’s always been a pet peeve of Jason’s, but he’s so out of it he hardly cares anymore.

They’ve finished the first bottle and started on a second one, and never before has Jason been so grateful for Leo’s habit of drinking rejection away. The drinking had been enthusiastic before, but the glasses lay discarded. The wine-bottle is half-on, half-off the table, looking like it could tip over any moment. Jason should fix it before it ruins the white shag carpet, but the air around him feels like molasses.

“I think the first time I met Percy was when I had to tutor him in math,” Nico muses.

Jason rolls over with great difficulty, but at least now his weight isn’t pressing down on his stomach anymore. God, he feels like he’s about to puke. “Are you going to tell me your tragic love story now?”

Nico shrugs, suddenly silent.

“Hey,” Jason prompts, “Just because it’s the high school type of tragic doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear it.”

It turns out that a drunk Nico is a talkative one prone to oversharing, because from there, the story spills easily from his lips.  

Nico had been somewhat of a math nerd in his youth—it comes from having a father in finance. He’s always been good with numbers, and the rate at which he could add, subtract, multiply them in his head always been a source of astonishment for his teachers. He’d never had to try very hard in math, and to this day doesn’t understand the definition of “math homework.”

“You absolute nerd,” Jason says fondly. “The only thing I was ever naturally good at was…”

“Having shiny hair?” Nico slurs.

“Well, yeah.” If Jason preens a little at that, no one has to know. Nico is too caught up in searching for Jason’s nonexistent stash of alcohol in the kitchen cupboard anyway. There’s nothing there, and Jason is about to tell Nico this when there suddenly _is_.

“You have Altamura sauvignon and you’ve been offering me cheap wine?” Nico’s mouth twists in disgust, but it transforms into a satisfied grin a moment later. “You fucker.”

“I didn’t even know it was there!”

After that, there’s not much else to do but pour the wine and clink their glasses together. Somewhere in the back of his mind, Jason is pretty sure he’ll regret this decision in the morning, if Leo doesn’t kill him first, but alcohol is good, alcohol is great, and a drunk and sleepy Nico is one of the most adorable things in the world. Jason used to think Piper biting her nails filled that top spot easily, but Nico drifts off for a minute, hand draped across his stomach. His eyes flutter closed, breaths coming in short pants through his red lips. He looks serene, the tension drained from his body. Jason is hit with an irrational urge to _touch._

What he does end up doing is pouring half the bottle of wine onto Nico’s face to wake him up.

“You wasted half a bottle of sauvignon!” Nico is caught in between laughing and sobbing. His eyes light on Jason like he’s the most fascinating thing, and shit, Jason is so very drunk. Everything spins, but Nico is a fixed point in swirling mass of indistinguishable color. As Jason’s world blends together, Nico remains distinct, sharp edges standing out against the background. Just for a second, Jason thinks Nico feels the same way. It’s all rubbish though, and the mood is killed when Nico clears his throat.

“Do you want to hear the rest of the story?” Nico tentatively wipes off the wine with a finger and sucks on it, tasting. Jason looks away. Rule number one of matchmaking: do not, under any circumstances jump your matchmakee, even if he looks delectable in rumpled clothes, with a sloppy grin and glazed-over eyes. Not even if he makes bad jokes at 2 AM. Not even if he likes literature Jason hates and is so socially awkward Jason doesn’t know how he exists in real life. Not even if he’s goddamn Nico di Angelo.

He shakes his head to purge his mind before it can go down paths he would rather avoid. It doesn’t have quite the same effect he hoped it would, and the desire is still there, sitting in a dark corner of his brain. Still, for now, it’s enough.

“Yeah,” Jason says, “Okay.”

In high school, Nico had gone on to become a tutor. It hadn’t been quite the job he wanted,  but his sister had insisted he try to make new friends one way or another, and Nico had always been fundamentally opposed to the typical clubs and organizations at school. And tutoring gave him enough money to fund his sweet tooth, which his father refused to finance, the jackass. He should try functioning without his daily Kit-Kat bar some time, to see how Nico feels.

Enter Percy Jackson, high school senior, all-around nice guy but not overly popular. Is even friends with Nico’s sister Bianca. Even closer friends with Nico’s half-sister Hazel. Funny. Smart. Terrible at math.

Jason can’t help but remind himself that _he’d_ always gotten by when it came to numbers, even if he’d never become a prodigy.

“Was he your sexual awakening?” Jason teases. “Don’t tell me you had a sexuality crisis because of Percy Jackson.”

Nico glares at him. “I’ve been wanking to gay porn since I was fourteen. I didn’t need Percy to make me realize I liked dick.”

For some reason, Jason feels unbearably smug.

From the first moment Nico laid eyes on Percy Jackson, he knew he was screwed. It wasn’t because of the floppy hair, though that may have something to do with it. Not even the green eyes were enough to draw Nico in, even though they’re just this side of emerald. Not even the fact that he’d been wearing a Death Cab for Cutie t-shirt, or was captain of the school swim team.

It went something like this, and even if Jason had no interest in hearing Percy’s name praised, the way Nico’s eyes light up when he’s on the subject will remain in his memory for a while. It bugs Jason, how Nico has never looked at him quite like this. This kind of zeal and devotion is reserved for only one person, and that one person is currently involved in a mad love affair with a hipster who drinks bad coffee. Jason isn’t bitter or anything.

Being an out gay kid in a conservative high school is hard enough, but being a closeted one presumed gay might be even harder. His denials only fueled the flame anyhow—and he didn’t know which was worse: that they never believed his lies or that he could never buy into them either. Jason recalls the surly, lost boy he’d first met that day weeks ago. “Amp that up at least ten times,” Nico tells him. “Add in wire-rimmed glasses and AP classes I never actually cared much about, and you’ve got high school me.”

Football players were rowdy as individuals, but, put together in a group, they were a mob capable of anything. Nico should have expected this, from the moment he told Brett Anders he couldn’t copy off his calculus test. How he’d ever managed to worm his way into that class remains a mystery to Nico to this day, because as far as Nico knew, he didn’t have two brain cells to rub together.

“Maybe one and a half,” Nico concedes. “He did know how to woo girls.”

The ambush directly after school hadn’t been wholly unexpected—Brett and his merry band of football players would harass him and rough him up for a bit, nothing more serious than that. Nico would bear it in stride then drag himself home to have a good and well deserved pity session. Resistance wasn’t a course of action Nico particularly wanted to try out. Who knew what they would do when provoked? He wasn’t much more than average-looking, but he’d like his face the way it was, thank you very much.

What did come as a surprise was Percy’s emphatic “what the hell are you doing to him?” followed by some ninja-esque maneuvering that placed him directly in Brett’s line of attack. He shielded Nico from the boys, keeping him back with an arm. Nico was too stunned to do much else, and, by the time he’d regained his wits, Percy had managed to shuffle him away from the mob while distracting them with his usual sass.

“Run,” Percy had said, when they were a proper distance away. And so Nico ran, laughter erupting from his chest. His feet pounded on the pavement, and his lungs felt like they were about to give way, but he laughed anyway. Goddamn Percy Jackson suggested to Brett that maybe he’d built up his large ego to compensate for his tiny dick, and okay, Nico had read somewhere that adrenaline could heighten attraction. If you want someone to love you, work out with them and all that. It should come as no surprise that he was feeling this way, but he’d never before had to deal with the feeling that threatened to burst out of him.

“And you fell in love with him,” Jason says. He takes another swig from his glass and ends up sputtering as it goes down his windpipe. Nico laughs, and it’s a pealing sound in the silent of the apartment. Jason hadn't even noticed that the Lana del Rey CD he’d been playing had winded to a stop at one point during the night. The silence is suddenly noticeable. It makes him want to _talk,_ and Jason isn’t in the right frame of mind to speak without embarrassing himself.

The last time he’d gotten this spectacularly drunk, he’d ended up slumped in Leo’s arms, whining about how much he wanted to suck dick. “But not yours,” Jason had clarified very carefully, pawing at Leo’s chest, “you’re not my type.”

Leo had almost dumped him on the floor right then.

“I guess?” Nico says, suddenly unsure. He shakes his head. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter.”

Jason makes a non-committal noise but leans over to clink his half-full glass against Nico’s empty one, which he’s only holding by the tips of his fingers. It’s kind of an awkward reach, and Jason hits Nico’s wrist instead of the glass, but Nico jolts out of his slump, so he figures it works. A drop from Nico’s glass hits the white carpet. Jason should really do something about that, when he gets his limbs under control.

“Don’t you want to know how our date went?”

“I’m guessing not well?”

Nico burrows deeper into the cushions so that he’s safely tucked into the warmth of the couch. “So he’s going on and on thanking me for being there even though I’m straight, and I asked him what that had to do with anything if this was a date between friends. Told me he always thought I was uncomfortable around gay people. I had to spend the next fifteen minutes explaining to him that I’m gay as a rainbow. I don’t get it. Straight? Me?”

“Could be the fact that you’re a raging closet case.”

Nico swings a pillow at Jason, and he has to wonder when they’ve decided to regress back into elementary school sleepover behavior. “Says one of the straightest queer guys I know.”

“Just because I play sports and don’t go to gay clubs every other night?”

Blushing furiously, Nico throws another pillow at Jason. “Shut up. You good for another round?”

“Nico…don’t you want to talk about it?”

“I’m pretty sure I just got rejected by the guy I may or may not be in love with. Excuse me if I just want to get drunk and not think.”

“You thought you’d feel better.” Jason has a bad habit of speaking his thoughts when drunk, even if—especially if—his musings are entirely unwanted.  “You thought you’d feel better if Percy liked guys, but you don’t.”

“Shit, Grace, _shut up_.”

Jason must have no sense of self-preservation. He blames his shared genes with Thalia. “There’s nothing wrong with you. He might be disinterested in a completely different way than before, but that’s his problem, not yours.” He’s spouted off so much empty comfort throughout the years—it comes with being a human living in civilized society—but this isn’t it. He just wishes Nico would understand that.

If it’s possible, Nico’s face turns an even deeper shade of red. How often does he get compliments, anyway? His friends aren’t exactly numerous or emotionally expressive, and—oh, shit. Nico looks like he’s on the verge of freaking out as he tries to work through Jason’s words.

There’s a click as someone unlocks the front door to Jason’s apartment, and both he and Nico are abruptly jolted out of the moment. Piper bursts inside with the force of a tornado—disastrous effects included. Her eyes light up when she spots Jason and Nico on their respective couches. Jason begins to regret giving her that spare key. It had seemed like a good idea when they’d been dating—Piper spent more time at his place than her own—but it’s been eight months since they broke up, and the key still remains in her possession. Of course Piper would reject all the social norms associated with proper key returning. She’s that kind of girl.

The door swings shuts behind her with a soft thud, and for Jason, it feels like some sort of finality. It’s ominous. An entire horror movie could be created out of Piper’s door slams. Once you’re in, you can’t get out. Hell, add Annabeth to the mix, and it’d be worse than Paranormal Activity.

“I need a model,” she announces. There’s no free space on either of the couches, but that doesn’t stop Piper. She drops down on Jason’s couch, placing his feet in her lap to give herself a place to sit. “School newspaper‘s section on campus life wants to highlight coffee shops, and you’ve been losing customers. Annabeth wants to use this opportunity to advertise. Mr. D agrees.”

Few people actually know their boss’s real name, and it’s dropped so out of use even the ones who know don’t remember it. He’s kind of an asshole. Can’t remember names. Snaps at his employees. Constantly cranky when he doesn’t have something to drink. And since he’s trying to kick his alcohol habit, it’s happening more and more often. He and Annabeth never agree on anything. If Mr. D has given the go-ahead for this new scheme, the situation must be dire.

“I don’t see what this has to do with us,” says Jason.

Piper grabs the nearly empty bottle of sauvignon and holds in up in a silent question. When Jason nods, Piper swigs the last of it. Nico makes a sort of pathetic wine from his couch. “Gaia appeals to hipsters, but okay, let’s face it. The type of people who will frequent any non-chain coffee shop is going to have at least a little hipster blood in them. What we need to do is to highlight a _different_ kind of hipster. Which is why I need Nico.”

Nico’s glass thunks against the floor. “What?”

Stretching over to Nico’s couch, Piper grasps Nico’s wrist to pull him over next to her, until he’s perched precariously on the arm of Jason’s couch. One topple and they’d become one big cuddle pile. Looks like Nico could use it too, if his deer-in-the-headlights look is anything to go by. Piper smooths a hand over Nico’s hair, which is still half flattened from his position on the couch earlier. To his credit, he doesn’t flinch away, though that might have been more a cause of shock than his slowly becoming more comfortable around actual human beings. Piper cocks her head to the side, appraising him. Nico shrinks back into the couch.

Piper had given up on getting into trouble to merely catch her father’s attention long ago, and Jason’s grateful for it. She still rejects the expensive clothes and privileged access he offers her, but it’s not an act of rebellion, not anymore. Piper simply enjoys beat-up jeans and holey running shoes. It’s part of her charm. She’s going through a phase where she does anything and everything, hoping one of her hobbies will click in time for her father to see her as more than just his wild child of a daughter. Painting had turned out to be a bust. The brief foray into culinary arts had ended in food poisoning. She’s on photography now, and out of all her short-lived phases, Jason thinks this one may actually stick. Piper has a good eye for finding beauty.

“You’d be the perfectly model for this,” Piper coos.

Nico flattens his hair where Piper has ruffled it up, but she bats his hand out of the way. He ends up pouting as she manipulates his hair into artistic messiness. “No offense, Piper, but if you haven’t figured it out already, I’m not exactly model material.”

“Nonsense, you can be anything.”

Panic drifts into Nico’s expression. “I _can’t do it_.”

She pinches his cheek. “You’re just pale enough to be alluring, just a little awkward enough to be endearing. Please? I promise I’ll make it as painless as possible.” Eyes wide and hands clasped together, she knows she’s making it difficult for Nico to refuse. Sure enough, Nico’s resolve is crumbling as he hesitates in his resolution.  

“He’ll do it,” Jason says. Scared eyes turn to Jason, but when Piper beams, Nico can’t very well retract Jason’s assent. Piper has an eye for capturing beauty that’s already there, the kind that doesn’t know it exists in the first place. Nico needs to see that. Jason can’t even blame the alcohol for addling his thoughts enough for him to think this is a good idea.

“Fine,” Nico huffs finally, and Jason breathes a sigh of relief. “But you owe me one.”

* * *

They say the road to hell is paved with good intentions, but the road to Jason’s increasing obsession with Nico’s well-being—he’s not even going to analyze the deeper implications of that—is lined little moments like this, when Nico is sitting in a back booth, trying to blend into the furniture. The Argo II has been closed for the night, and the place is lit by ambient yellow lights, turned up to their brightest setting.  Annabeth’s arms are crossed over her chest as she mentally calculates the electric bill, but Piper had insisted, and Annabeth had never been able to deny Piper anything, much less something that will benefit the shop. It’s a little bit eerie, but the shop looks different with these new shadows dancing on the walls. Cozier.

Nico, for one, doesn’t seem to be feeling the atmosphere at all. He shifts awkwardly in the pants Piper shoved him into earlier, claiming they complimented his ass. “Sure,” he’d quipped back when she handed them over, “if they don’t squeeze my butt to death first.”

“Don’t be ridiculous. Butts can’t die.”

The pants do the job though, and even Annabeth had looked him over appreciatively before muttering that Piper had been right, this was a good idea. Piper had taken it upon herself to liberate Leo of one of his nicer shirts, and Nico is dressed in a black button-down, sleeves rolled halway up his forearms. Jason had never noticed Nico’s forearms much, but for someone who claims he never does much of anything, his arms are surprisingly well-muscled, dusted over with a light smattering of dark hair. Jason has to look away.

As she’s setting up her tripod, Piper says, “So Octavian is writing the review for you guys.” At the face Annabeth makes, Piper holds her hands up. “Look, I know you don’t like him, but he has this ability to predict the future or something. If he says you guys are going to get business, you’re probably going to get business. Warning? He’s probably going to come here in disguise. He’s eccentric like that.”

Annabeth rolls her eyes. “He gets his coffee here every other day.”

“But when it’s for official business, it’s different, you know?” Shrugging, Piper finishes making the final adjustments to the camera angle. Her new Nikon is gleaming, fresh out of the box, and she pats it with a soft smile on her face. “For my part, I’ll try my best to paint you guys in a positive light, but who knows what Octavian will do?”

Jason decides that it’s probably a bad time to mention that Octavian is still bitter about their breakup, not that it had been much of a breakup in the first place. They hadn’t been in a relationship. Constant drunken hookups do not a relationship make.

Piper fixes her attention on Nico, sticking her tongue out of her mouth a little as she considers his position on the plushy seat. It’s meant for comfort, but Nico looks the opposite. He looks great, of course. The outfit he’s wearing makes him look like the type of dark and mysterious stranger who would grace the fronts of romance novels, albeit one about impoverished college students who drink too much coffee. His hair is teased to messy perfection, a few strands falling into his eyes. He even has a little tuft in the back. It’s surprisingly attractive. Piper never does anything halfway, and this temporary makeover is no exception to the rule.

“Is there any way you can…loosen up?”

Nico shakes his limbs every which way, nearly knocking over the vanilla latte sitting in front of him. Annabeth winces. Nico says, “I’m already loose.”

“You’re _thinking_ too hard. You’re just here to look pretty as you’re sipping your coffee.”

“If you wanted someone to look pretty, maybe you shouldn’t have asked me to do this.”

“Great, go tell me where I can find someone with your bone structure in two days.” Nico blushes, and Piper plows forward. “Yeah? Didn’t think so.”

“Just…” Before Nico can think, Piper has snapped a picture. As Nico is blinking from the flash, Piper’s turning her head every which way, appraising the picture. It only takes her a few minutes to declare, “No, there’s still something _off_ about this.”

“I’m trying my best!”

“You’re not stiff, but you still don’t look comfortable.” She looks up from the camera screen. “We wanted you because you look different. Don’t pose.”

“I don’t even know how to pose!”

“Well, you’re doing it!”

The frustration in the room has Jason gritting his teeth, so before this can spiral out of control, Jason has plopped himself down on the seat next to Nico. It’s a two-seater, thank God, but Nico is so shocked that it takes Jason a few minutes to gently nudge Nico out of the way. His muscles are pulled so taut that Jason can see his tensed back through the black shirt. Before he can think this through, he’s rubbing circles into the base of Nico’s neck with his thumbs. “Just be yourself.”

Piper adds, “Maybe a little bit more seductive, that would be great.”

Nico bites his lip, and damn. Did Piper put something on his lips—lipstick or gloss or something? Piper always goes all-out, and Jason has a feeling Nico wouldn’t have rejected her, especially when she’s blinking her huge brown eyes at him. She’s always had a talent for convincing people to do things they wouldn’t normally do. Nico’s lips look especially plump tonight, and Jason has to suppress a groan when he licks them. Nico is in love with Percy. And Jason likes it that way. In fact, he has an elaborate, multi-step plan to get Percy to notice that Nico is an actual human boy capable of sex and not a little brother he has to protect. Hell, this entire photoshoot is part of the plan, the part where he works up Nico’s self-esteem to the point where he can talk to Percy on pseudo dates without wanting to run away.

It doesn’t look like Nico’s self-esteem is going up any, though. If anything, it’s wilting under the dark lens of the camera and Piper and Annabeth’s judging eyes.

“Would it help if I took the pictures?” Jason suggests. “Just me, no one else in the room? Just to loosen you up?”

Nico nods quickly, but Piper protests, “You don’t even know how to take a proper picture.”

“Relax, I have no intention of taking over your job. As soon as Nico feels comfortable again, we can call you back in.”

“Please?” Piper may have the gift of persuasion, but Nico’s almost as bad, simply because he doesn’t know when he’s doing it. Piper knows exactly how her gifts will hit, but Nico’s so guileless and innocent and incapable of believing that people genuinely care about him that when he does amp up the charm, he’ll get what he wants, no doubt about it.

Piper’s still hesitant, but Annabeth must have sensed something in the combined force of Nico and Jason’s pleading eyes. She takes Piper’s wrist and leads her off. “There’s a new cupcake recipe I want to show you in the kitchen,” she says, and judging from the way Piper’s eyes light up, it’s probably not a cupcake recipe.

Jason really doesn’t want to know.

“How do you _work_ this thing? There are so many buttons, damn.” He gives an experimental press to the silver button on the camera’s right side. There’s a click, and when he checks the screen, he’s caught Nico wide-eyed and surprised. “I guess that’s how you do it.”

“Look, this is better than Piper, but I still don’t see how you taking pictures is going to make much of a difference.” Nico tugs at the hem of his shirt. “Let’s face it—I’m just not cut out for this.”

Reaching into his pocket, Jason encounters his latest purchase, which had landed on his front step that morning. He’d ordered it a week ago and had waited in anticipation since then, nervously checking the package’s progress nearly every day. If he’s honest with himself, he hadn’t been looking forward to its arrival so much as he’d been looking forward to watching Nico’s reaction to it, but hey, he’s a grown-ass adult living in an adult world. Who says he can’t lie to himself?

Jason throws the deck of cards onto the table, the tin foil crinkling. It takes Nico a few moments to suss out what they are, but when he does, he practically jumps out of his seat. His limbs rattle with excitement, and he takes the pack in his hands reverently, cradling it where his hands meet. He turns it over and over, getting a feel for its weight.

“This hasn’t even come out yet. It doesn’t even have a _name_. People on forums have just been calling it the extremest extreme deck for ages.”

Jason smirks. “I know. I’m on the same forums you are, you keep forgetting that.”

“Please don’t tell me you’re a mobster.”

“I don’t think mobsters have any influence over the production of Mythomagic cards.”

“Does it have the new defense cards? New monsters? That new line of weaponry they’ve been promising for ages but actually haven’t  come out with yet?”

“I don’t know, check.”

“I can…open it?” His fingers fidget with the wrapping, his index finger already sliding into the slit. Jason’s assent is only a formality, and when he gives it, Nico tears into his latest task with single-minded concentration. He’s so intent on opening the pack with the greatest care possible that he doesn’t notice that Jason has moved behind the tripod. It quakes as Jason switches the camera on, but by the time he has it steadied, Nico has laid the cards out on the table in a row. He runs his hands over them.

His finger poised over the button of the camera, Jason says, “Hold, right there. Just keep that look on your face.”

“Wha—“

There’s a flash. It lights up the room, and by the time Nico turns his head up, Jason has already pressed the button three more times in quick succession.

Right, so he’s kind of a sneaky asshole sometimes. Piper has always claimed he’s too perfect anyway. May as well make up for that with some covert picture-taking.

Nico screws his eyes shut and emits a whining kind of noise. He buries his face in his arms. “Was this your plan all along?” His voice is muffled.

Jason doesn’t bother with a response, not yet anyway. He flips through the pictures at rapid speed, until he alights on one in particular. It’s the first one he took, when Nico had yet to take notice of Jason’s plans, or even his presence, really. His face isn’t even turned to the camera, but there’s a hint of a smile lighting up what little he can see. His eyes crinkle at the edges as his fingers trail the outline of a card.  Jason’s dubious picture-taking skills hadn’t dampened Nico’s beauty any. Even Nico, when he reluctantly slides over to look, can’t deny the glow that suffuses his features.

“I actually don’t look bad.”

Jason suppresses the urge to tell him that’s the understatement of the century. “See? Piper was right, you just needed to relax,” Jason says.

“Yeah, now I have to see if I can do that when I’m actually facing the camera.”

“Don’t think of me as your photographer. Think of me as…that old manticore card I found in your collection. The one that you defiled? Goatee and mustache weren’t the most creative choices, man, and honestly, the goatee looked way too much like a dick for it to be accidental.”

With another flash of the camera, Jason catches Nico in the middle of a laugh, his head thrown back and he supports himself on his arms. The long line of his throat is exposed, and if Jason wanted to, he could tip Nico over like this. Press him into the plush upholstery and bite kisses down his neck until all traces of Percy Jackson are purged from his brain. Jason may be a poor substitute, but Nico could probably make do. Nico may be too far gone to see anyone in the same light he sees Percy, but he likes Jason enough. They click together too, just not in the same way Percy and Nico do. But if Jason could just convince Nico, God, if he could just try—

He’s not that much of an asshole.

This is probably a good time to admit that Jason’s feelings for Nico aren’t just the protective kind.

Well, shit.

“Think about Annabeth’s cupcakes.”

Flash.

“The smell of rain on a summer day.”

“You’re such a fucking romantic, what kind of boy do you think I am?”

Flash.

“Me giving you the deck as an early birthday present?”

“Don’t screw with my head!”

Flash.

Nico frowns, suddenly discontent. Jason’s just on the verge of making a joke about Piper’s choice in scarves—he doesn’t know what had caused Nico’s face to screw up. The way his gaze fixes on Jason is unnerving. He can’t place it. He doesn’t know what it means in the grand scheme of things. Nico has worried at his lip so often that the gloss must have worn off by now, but his mouth still looks like the most inviting thing in the world.

Finally, Nico pats the spot next to him. “Get over here, Grace.”

“In case you haven’t noticed, you’re the model here, not me.”

“In case _you_ haven’t noticed, we’re in possession of Piper’s fancy camera and you haven’t goofed off even a little? Damn shame, Grace. Let loose a little.”

“This is coming from _you_ ,” Jason mutters, but he dutifully sets the timer for ten seconds before making his way over to Nico. What Jason hadn’t factored in were Nico’s lanky legs, stretching out from the side of the booth as he turns to make certain of Jason’s advance. Jason’s sneakers catch on Nico’s clunky Vans, and he goes toppling over, limbs flailing. His weight falls against Nico, and the smaller boy lets out a surprised _oomph_.

If he were a romantic, the moment would come down to this: Their hearts beating in tandem in their respective chests, pressing warmth against each the other. Nico’s lips, wet and plump, lying in wait an inch from Jason’s own. Nico’s jean-clad thigh stuck in between Jason’s legs, a situation that grows more dire by the second. Nico’s brown eyes, blown wide with—something?—as he freezes, not daring to move. When Jason shifts, his hair brushes Nico’s forehead.

When the flash goes off, Jason’s arms are still bracketed around Nico’s body, to keep himself from crushing his friend. Their lower halves are still intertwined, and Jason knows what this scene would look like from the angle of the camera.

Still, when Jason manages to push himself off Nico, he doesn’t bother with erasing it from the camera’s memory.

Nico has a shy smile on his face, but there’s nothing shy about the hug that he engulfs Jason into. He’s so shocked that he tenses, and Nico jumps away.

“Shit, sorry, shouldn’t have done that.”

“No, no, it’s okay. I just never pegged you for a very tactile person.”

“I’m not tactile often. Doesn’t mean I’m _not_. I’m European.”

Jason’s never been one to categorize his life—it’s too analytical, and, as much as he likes being in control, the phases his life splits itself into are entirely too arbitrary for him to brand.

Did his relationship with Piper start the first time they went out on a date, too shy to even hold hands, or when he’d finally kissed her, three dates later? Did his friendship with Leo start when he’d accidentally shoved Leo into a rain puddle in fifth grade or when he defended Leo from Jason’s own friends, who were intent on giving Leo shit for his single mother and less than stellar background? Did he truly know what love was the first time he met Nico, or had it been creeping up on him all along, waiting for the right moment to strike?

But he thinks, that if he had to divide his life into Before Nico and After Nico, he’d choose this as the dividing line. Jason is so goddamn fucked.

When Piper returns, the shoot goes by without a hitch. Nico complies with each of her commands, and while he isn’t enthusiastic, he doesn’t go back to the brooding teenager behavior Jason knows he can pull off so well. After, she scrolls through the photos with a satisfied sigh before pulling Jason aside.

“I don’t know what you did, but it worked.” Judging from the sympathy in her eyes, Piper had seen the photo, had noticed Jason’s ridiculous pining, and managed to put two and two together. “Actually, I do know, and let me just say—“

“Can we not talk about it? I don’t really want a lecture.”

Piper swings her camera case over her shoulder and adjusts the strap into place. She gives him a two-finger salute on her way out the door. “Actually, I was just going to say ‘thank you.’”

* * *

When Jason gets to work on Monday, Nico is already perched on his usual spot on the counter. He’s never here early, instead preferring to appear out of nowhere when Jason is already well into his shift, to avoid awkward questions. Now, with Annabeth on the prowl, Nico seems out of place, his posture stiff and his eyes shifting around the room awkwardly.

When he sees Jason, his entire demeanor transforms. Nico’s holding a plate of cookies in his hands, hopeful expression on his face. Jason has to stop to catch his breath when Nico flashes him a grin. It’s not his usual controlled smile. This is different. Jason wishes he were a photographer, just so he can capture this moment.

Nico pushes off the counter. There’s a second when it all seems like it’ll work out—it’s a practiced motion Nico has gone through time and time again. But just this once, his gravity if thrown off-kilter as he lands on the toe of his Converse, and he’s knocked into Jason’s chest, nearly bowling him over until Jason manages to regain his balance. Jason wraps his arms around Nico’s waist to steady him. No ulterior motives or anything. He just doesn’t want Nico falling over again.

Nico gives him a sheepish smile under his lashes. “That wasn’t how it was supposed to go.”

“How what was supposed to go?”

“I made cookies? Well, I told Hazel to make cookies, at any rate. I just wanted to say—“

However, before Nico can get his words out, Leo comes barreling through the door. A breeze of spring air flows into the room, but Jason doesn’t need the smell of fucking springtime daisies or happiness. What Nico had been about to say was big, monumental. Jason could feel it in his bones. No matter, as soon as Leo leaves, he’s going to get the answer out of Nico.

Leo gives Jason what he probably thinks is a friendly punch to the shoulder. It isn’t. As Jason is rubbing the bruised muscle, Leo asks, “What’s this I hear about a crush? New girlfriend?”

Jason scowls. “Who’d you hear that from?”

“Piper said that you were heads over heels. Why didn’t you tell me you were seeing someone?”

“That’s because I’m not seeing anyone. Get it together, man. You shouldn’t believe everything Piper says.”

“But she’s usually right about your love life.” When Jason refuses to budge, Leo slings an arm around Jason’s shoulder. “Oh come on. I’m your best friend. I hold best bud privileges. And those privileges say you should tell me what’s going on. Please?”

“I’m supposed to start my shift in a couple of minutes. Leave,” Jason hisses. His heart is pounding in his chest as he glances over at Nico, gauging his reaction. He’s not that obvious, is he? He’s never been good at hiding his feelings when he feels them so strongly, but Leo blurting them out in front of the object of his affections? Not the brightest moment in Jason’s life.

Nico’s smile is strained, and Jason can feel it, starting deep in his gut. The doubt roils and pushes at his insides. Of course Nico heard. Leo had been talking so loudly that dead souls in the Underworld probably heard.

Now Nico knows, and of _course_ he doesn’t reciprocate the sentiment. That small burst of hope Jason had been cradling in his chest is useless, hopeless against Nico’s feelings for Percy. Jason wants to crawl into a hole and never leave. Maybe he’ll learn how to hibernate. Yes, learning how to transform into a bear would be great right now. If God gave him the ability to charm people he never intended to charm, surely this shouldn’t be too difficult.

“What did you want to tell me?” Jason says, his voice small.

Nico shakes his head. The spring in his step from earlier is gone as he backs away from Jason. Jason’s arms feel bereft without Nico there. Jason wouldn’t blame Nico if he started avoiding him. If it turned out his friend had somehow managed to fall in love with him against his better judgment—against both of their better judgments—he’d be running away too. “Never mind, it doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Do you—do you want to wait here for Percy?”

Nico cocks his head. “Percy?”

Jason doesn’t want Nico playing dumb. “You know, the boy you’re in love with?”

Maybe it’s unnecessarily cruel, but he has no other choice. The jab is better than the alternative anyway. He’d rather make passive-aggressive comments about Nico’s lack of love life than get on the floor and grovel, ask him why he couldn’t love Jason instead.

Nico flinches, and Jason immediately regrets it. “You’re such an asshole. Screw you.” He’s striding out the door when he slams into Percy.

Jason’s vision goes a bit green when Percy repeats Jason’s actions form before. He dusts Nico off and rights the smaller boy by the waist. Unlike Jason, though, he keeps his hands on Nico, resting his palms on the wool of Nico’s moth-eaten sweater. The worst part is that Nico lets him.  

“Whoa, why are you in such a hurry to get away?”

Nico ignores the question. “Remember that time when you asked me to tutor you?”

Percy’s eyes cross. “Yeah, you said you were busy? But what does this have to do with anything?”

“Well, I’m not busy anymore. Do you still need help?”

Percy looks confused, but he just rolls with it. Between the lack of coffee in his system—ironic, he’d say—and the frankly scandalous scene happening in front of him, Jason doesn’t know quite how to feel. His heart hasn’t caught up with his brain yet. “Yeah.”

Nico smiles for Percy. It’s the grin that Jason thought was reserved for him and him alone. “Three o’clock. Library?”

* * *

Life goes back to normal after that, or as normal as life can be when Percy and Nico are constantly hanging out. Nico’s persistent blush around Percy had disappeared altogether, and he seems to be able to speak to the older boy without the normal stammers and tendency to abruptly run away. Leo thinks Jason’s being paranoid.

“They’re probably just friends,” Leo had said. Then, he’d put the pieces of the puzzle together. It wasn’t difficult, and if Nico, oblivious idiot that he is, took note of Jason’s constant hard-on for him, it wouldn’t be a stretch to think Leo would either. “You mean you’ve been mooning over Nico di Angelo? You do realize he’s been in love with Percy for fucking ever, right?”

Leo had never claimed he’d been blessed with the gift of tact, and for good reason. He’d probably never been acquainted with the concept. Jason, however, isn’t so lucky. He’s grown up with goddamn propriety, learning the lessons of _acceptable social conduct_ and all the various bullshit that comes with it. His mother had always managed to put on a good face for the press, after all. Jason had only been a kid then, but maybe he’d just learned through osmosis.

Acceptable follower of social norms that he is, Jason bears it with grace. If Percy and Nico are purposely spending more and more time around the shop to antagonize Jason, he refuses to acknowledge it.

They’ve abandoned all pretense of studying together now, and the conversations they get into over coffee are so heated that Annabeth only shakes her head indulgently before placing more cups in front of them, on the house. She’d admitted to Jason, once, that she’d give them as much free coffee as they needed if Percy could keep Nico that happy. Seems like Jason isn’t the only one who has a soft spot for the kid.

The words that go unspoken haunt Jason. He’ll never make Nico as happy as Percy does.

And that’s okay. You can’t help whom you love, and it’s obvious, watching Nico subconsciously lean toward Percy over the stack of textbooks sitting in front of them, that Nico has chosen to fall in love with a total idiot. Not that Jason can judge. He’s the one sitting here missing something that never existed in the first place.

The more Nico orbits around Percy, the less time he has for Jason. Jason can practically feel his Mythomagic cards collecting dust from disuse, sees Nico’s couch pushed back to its former position in between his shifts. He doesn’t know who does it and doesn’t care to ask. He’s never taken to sympathy very well. Emotionally stunted idiot that he is at times, Jason can still tell Nico’s absence is intentional. It doesn’t take much emotional intelligence to decipher hostile glares, and is that…hurt in his expression? Whatever, it’s not like Nico has anything to be hurt about.

When the article comes out, landing on the shop counter along with a red-cheeked Piper, Jason has to admit it’s a masterpiece. The article Octavian had written wasn’t anything too special, nothing more than his usual drivel. Piper insists that it’s quite good anyway, and Jason is biased. He’s allowed, he thinks.

“You’re not biased against me,” Piper points out. “And we actually dated. As far as I know, you and Octavian just screwed.”

Jason nudges her shoulder with his own. “But you’re Piper McLean. No one can possibly hate you.”

While the article falls short of Jason’s expectations, the picture exceeds them. Even in the cheap color ink the school newspaper uses, Piper had managed to capture Nico’s essence. His smile is not the bright grin he’s been fixing Percy with on a regular basis, thank god, but something more hesitant, barely tugging at his lips as he peers over the top of the coffee cup. The lighting accentuates his long lashes and the distinctiveness of his cheekbones. The shot only displays his upper body, but if Jason were to look beneath, he’d see skinny-jean-clad legs revealing just a little bit of skin, right at the ankle, enough to drive him insane.

“If you’re planning to cut out the picture and paste it to your fridge, I have no choice but to judge you,” says Piper.

“And everyone thinks you’re so sweet.”

“Hey, I have my dark side.”

Jason can’t hate Nico even if he tried, and while things are tense between them, he’s trying the best he can to keep up some semblance of normalcy. When his shift is declared over that day, he plops himself down at the table where Percy and Nico are sitting. They’ve been winding down, and Jason doesn’t feel like he’s intruding on their love fest when Percy has a cold and is unable to force more of a croak out of his throat. The tutoring session had been more of Percy and Nico working on their respective coursework anyway. “We’re celebrating my not looking like a complete troll in the pictures, apparently,” Nico says, still hesitant around Jason. “Do you think you’d want to come?”

Percy rolls his eyes. “’Not a complete troll’. Nico, how many times do I have to tell you that you look great?” Nico blushes again. So, very many times, apparently. Jason wants to be the one telling him that.

“I can’t. I have an essay due tomorrow,” Jason says. Oh God, he’s such a masochist. Why the hell is he doing this to himself? “But you two could go to the new museum exhibit? Medieval torture techniques, isn’t that kind of your thing, Nico?”

Jason has been looking forward to this new exhibit for months, waiting for the chance to ask Nico. Now that Nico has Percy, though, guess he doesn’t need Jason to be his escort to exhibits on his dubious interests.

Nico can’t tell whether he’s teasing or not, but in the end, he must’ve decided that it doesn’t really matter anyway. He shrugs. “I mean, I doubt Percy would be interested…”

“I don’t mind,” Percy interjects quickly. “We should go.”

Nico beams, and Jason feels the roiling in the pit of his stomach starting up again. He clenches his hand into a fist. His fingernails dig deep into the palm of his hand, leaving marks.

Later, when Percy is using the restroom, Jason asks Nico, “Are you happy?”

Nico looks up at him in surprise.

“Right here, right now?” Nico gives a quick glance to Percy, who’s approaching the table with a bounce in his step. Seriously, is he ever not cheerful? It’s downright disconcerting, especially compared to Nico’s doom and glooml Jason has no idea how they put up with each other.

If Jason doesn’t look, he can even pretend that Nico means this. Means him, this moment. Just them sitting together, like before.

“Yeah, I am.”

* * *

The first hints of summer are already taking over the campus, and the sweltering heat is what gets to Jason the most. He’s always preferred a cool breeze ruffling through his hair, but what can you do? Summer had come, and it had come with a vengeance. Every trek between buildings seems like a Homeric hero’s journey. Every bead of sweat that collects on his forehead is a gallon of water being wrung out of his body. Every spot of sunlight is a new monster out to take his soul.

In the shop, the air conditioner works overtime, whirring and wheezing constantly in the background. The heat outside frazzles Jason’s brain, but the inside of the Argo II is a cool oasis. Nothing bad can happen here. Only good things happen where air conditioning’s involved.

Which is why Jason is so surprised when something bad _does_ happen.

He’s locking up as a favor to Annabeth when he hears the noise, coming from the general vicinity of the back door. Jason has never been able to figure out whether she’s slowly gaining trust in Jason or if she needs some alone time with Piper, but no matter. Either way, Jason has a key to the Argo II in his hand. Today, a key, tomorrow, a pay raise. He’s so high on the new responsibility that he doesn’t even hesitate before checking out the disturbance. If anyone’s here after hours…well, they’ve got a nerdy yet athletic enough, but still ridiculously pathetic college student to answer to.

He probably should have thought about what the noise _was_ before following it, but hey, hindsight is 20/20, right?

Jason stands transfixed as he watches Luke press Percy harder against the door, hand bruising his forearm. They’re rutting against each other without finesse, kissing so sloppily that Jason has to question the sense in making out in the back of a coffee shop.

Then it hits Jason, what they’re doing. What they’re doing to Nico.

“Fuck.” He doesn’t realize he says it out loud until Percy and Luke startle. Luke whirls around to face him. “What are you two doing here?”

“I’d say it’s pretty obvious what we’re doing here,” Luke drawls, but Percy silences him with a kick to the shin. Thank God. Jason’s beginning to see red. No way would he be able to handle himself if Luke had started talking his that stupid _voice_ of his. And Percy! He doesn’t even look ashamed, standing there with his hands in his pockets. Sheepish, maybe. But for a guy who’s cheating on his maybe-partner—if they’re not dating, they sure seem like they are, and it counts—he’s remarkably composed.

All Jason can manage is a shaky, “You guys should leave. I’m closing up.”

Jason isn’t sure he can control the urge to throttle both of them if they stay.

He doesn’t wait to check if they’ve complied. He needs to get out of there. Fuck, he really, really does. A stray chair comes across his path, and before he can maneuver around it, he’s already on the floor, hitting his knees hard. He should send a strongly-worded letter to the manufacturer. Yes. Chairs are meant for sitting, not for impeding people about to fly into angry tirades.

He’s brushing off his knees when the reason for his anger strides into the shop, looking like he doesn’t have a care in the world. His steps are light and his face is free from worry. He stops abruptly when he sees Jason, though.  Jason knows what a sight he must make, hair mussed and eyes wild, manic. He winces with each step he takes toward Nico, feeling the pain in his knees.

“What are you doing here?” says Jason.

From the way Nico looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here, Jason can tell he hadn’t expected Jason to be the sole employee in the shop “I forgot my laptop. Thirteen inch? Lenovo ultrabook? I probably left it at my usual table.”

Jason’s about to reply that, yes, he has seen it, has been waiting for Nico to come claim it, actually, when something cracks. “Percy’s still seeing Luke.”

Jason had prepared himself for any kind of reaction. Yelling, maybe. Crying, even. At least some anger. What he hadn’t expected was for Nico to cross his arms over his chest and say, “Yeah, so? They’ve been back together for weeks, longest run they’ve had in a while.”

Jason nearly topples over again. “You _knew_?” Nico can’t possibly be okay with this. It goes against every assumption he’s made about the guy. Jason thought he’d gotten better on the self-esteem front.

“Yes? What do you think Percy and I talk about so often? It’s not all schoolwork.”

“But I thought you were seducing him! That was the whole purpose of that photoshoot, and you asked him out right after!” When Nico begins laughing, Jason says, “Aren’t you still in love with him?”

Isn’t that why you looked at me like that, when you found out that I liked you too, Jason thinks.

“I’m…not?” Nico squares his shoulders and screws his eyes shut. His next words come out in a rush. “I haven’t felt like that about him in a while, and it was probably hero worship anyway.”

Jason’s thoughts halt in their tracks. “What?”

“And I mean, he’s a great guy. But he’s still working out his issues with Luke, and I’m kind of an idiot for thinking that we would work out in the first place. With all your self-esteem boosts, which didn’t really help by the way, I get that I’m supposed to know that I’m good enough for him, but I don’t think we ever deserved each other.”

“What?”

“I like someone else anyway.” Nico looks up, newfound determination in his eyes. “Shit, this is going to suck, but who cares? It’s not like you can make me feel any worse anyway.” Nico steels his shoulders. “‘Someone’ is you. I have a huge fucking crush on you. I don’t know why I keep liking guys who won’t ever like me back, but I think fate is against me. You have your girlfriend, and I’ll keep pining from afar. Don’t worry, I won’t interfere with your love life.”

Jason feels himself instinctively reaching out for Nico, but the other boy jerks his arm back, keeping it pulled straight at his side. Nico refuses to look at him, and Jason’s mouth is agape when he says, “What?”

“Are you capable of saying anything else? Because I’m really bad at pouring out my feelings. I don’t even know why I said any of that to you. I’m just so tired of you pretending everything is okay.” Nico gulps. “I think I should go.”

It’s an instinct. Jason has always learned that he should keep those he loves close, before they can be taken from him, even by their own stupidity in this case. Thalia had taught him that lesson once. She’d be proud he’s putting it to use now. Jason grabs Nico’s wrist and pulls the younger boy to him. He spins in a move worthy of any ballroom dance, until he’s pressed tight against Jason’s chest. The hand at the small of his back keeps him close.

It’s Nico’s turn to say, “What?”

Jason feels like something inside of him is bursting. Is it possible to go from a low to a high, just from the words of one teenage boy who barely has life figured out? He floats, and it’s grand. “I don’t have a girlfriend. I don’t know where you got that idea from.”

“But Leo said!”

“Leo…oh, you mean when he mentioned my crush? That was you, you idiot! You were the girlfriend!”

Comprehension begins to dawn in Nico’s eyes, and Jason decides to take advantage of his momentary confusion, before he remembers that he’s in the arms of a pathetic loser who’s mad for him. Nico looks a little bit beautiful like that, lost and unsure, not knowing what he’s allowed to do with his new knowledge. It’s okay if he’s lost. Jason can find him.

“Me?” Nico squeaks. “You like me?” He’s trying to keep up a mask of detached skepticism, but the hands at Jason’s sides flutter, not knowing if they’re supposed to touch. With an exhale, Jason anchors them to himself. “Why?”

“You’re kind of wonderful, Nico di Angelo.”

Nico beats against Jason’s chest, but it’s only halfhearted. “Stop trying to smooth-talk me. I know I’m not exactly a catch. I mean, look at me, and look at you.”

“Let’s get one thing straight. I got the scar on my lip when I was a little kid. I tried to eat a stapler, and it didn’t go well. Thalia had had to rescue me from the big, bad office appliance. I like ketchup on my eggs, which sounds really fucking gross, but don’t knock it ‘til you’ve tried it. My go-to karaoke song is I Believe I Can Fly, and I can’t carry a tune.” At Nico’s raised eyebrows, Jason says, “Point is, I’m an absolute loser. And this absolute loser is kind of in love with you.”

Nico still looks like he doesn’t quite believe it. “You’re not screwing with me?”

Jason’s response is to pull Nico closer. “Can I kiss you now?”

“Are we in the 19th century? This isn’t Pride and Prejudice.” Before Jason can construe that as a yes because _yes_ , the insecurity has been wiped away from Nico’s eyes, replaced by a determination he hardly ever sees in the younger boy. Calloused hands grasp at his neck and pull him in until Nico’s lips meet his in a kiss. Nico’s lips move clumsily against his own, but after a few minutes, he seems to get the hang of it. At least that’s what the probing tongue at his mouth suggests. Jason pulls away until he can screw his head on properly.

He nuzzles the juncture between Nico’s neck and shoulder and fingers the scarf he’s wearing. In 80-degree weather, no less. “Hipster.”

Nico gives the tweed jacket Jason’s wearing a quick once-over. He had an interview today, and that had been the only acceptable article of clothing sitting in his closet. Not that he’d had much to work with in the first place, but he suspects Leo may have stolen his good blazer for a dinner date, the bastard. “As if you should be talking.”

The jacket must offend Nico’s decidedly non-hipster sensibilities very much, because before Jason knows it, Nico has pulled it from his arms, tossing it over his shoulder. In the dark, Jason can’t see where it lands. Jason nips at Nico’s neck and says, “If you don’t stop taking my clothes off, I don’t know where this is going to end.”

Somewhere in the middle of all of this, Nico has grown hard. Jason feels it against his thigh, slotting between his legs. His own cock responds, and when Nico feels the tell-tale signs of Jason’s arousal, he smirks, licking his lips. Shit, he’s wearing some sort of gloss again. Screw Piper. Screw Piper and her goddamn seduction advice, because there’s no way Nico figured that out on his own. “And what if I don’t want you to be the responsible one?”

As if to confirm this, Nico drags his clothed erection across Jason’s, slowly at first, but then it’s full-out rutting, hard and fast. Jason goes boneless, and Nico arms are the only thing holding him up. He’s surprisingly strong for someone so skinny, and when Jason grasps at his forearm, panting, he can feel the muscles move under his fingers. The friction becomes too much, and the pressure on his cock is muddling his better judgment, so when Nico pauses a little to catch his breath, Jason takes advantage of the momentary reprieve.

“We can’t just do it here. I work here.” Getting fired from his job would kind of suck. He likes having enough money for his video games, thanks. And Leo’s appetite is enough to use up two people’s food budgets.

“Look around you, there’s no one here.” At this point, Jason’s pretty sure Nico will say anything to get what he wants, but the chairs _are_ stacked upside-down on the tables, the floors wiped clean. Any traces of human activity are long gone. “Don’t tell me you’re not intrigued,” he teases. He’s worn some sort of gel in his hair tonight, so that it slicks up in the front. Jason frowns. He likes Nico messy.

Jason trails his fingers down Nico’s arm, giving him a sad smile. “You’re a horny teenage boy. I’m not taking advantage of you in a coffee shop.” Also, he’s pretty sure that Nico’s presence is making him sixteen again, desperate to push Nico and see how much he can take. It’s driving him crazy, and he’s heady with lust. If they do this, he’s not sure how long he can last. His dick probably hasn’t gotten the memo that he wants to be remembered as a veritable sex god this first time between him and Nico. He has a reputation to uphold, but if the almost painful hardening in his jeans is anything to go by, he’ll just be remembered as the boy who came too soon.

Nico bites at Jason’s neck, and it hurts, okay, but then there’s a tongue there, slaving over the bite. Nico’s not very experienced at this, and Jason’s never been a huge fan of necking, but Nico needs practice and Jason could get used to necking with _Nico_ , so it’s kind of a win-win. When Nico nips again, Jason jerks up, sliding against Nico’s cock.

“Yeah, I think you should shut up now,” Nico says. “I promise we’ll have more time later. You can spend hours opening me up, or whatever romantic bullshit you’ve got in mind.”

Jason’s already scrabbling at Nico’s fly, his fingers feeling like lead. He hasn’t had this type of desperate sex in a long while, where all inhibitions all thrown to the wind. He doesn’t believe in meaningless sex, not really. Sex is always fun, but he misses feeling like this, feeling so connected to someone you’d do anything to have their skin against your own. “Actually,” he says when he manages to unzip Nico’s pants. Fuck, they’re tight. He pulls them down just enough for him to pull out Nico’s cock. “You’ll probably be the one opening me up. I’m kind of a pushy bottom. Think you can pound me into the mattress when your cock is up my ass?”

“Jason, you can’t just _say that when you have your hand around my dick, oh my God._ ”

His hands are too dry, and there’s probably too much friction for comfort, but Nico’s cock looks so beautiful like that, curved and red. He’s leaner than Jason, but he’s longer, and Jason itches to wrap his mouth around the already-leaking cockhead. He’s never wanted to taste anyone this much. He strokes, and when his fingers find the slit and smears pre-come all over, Nico has to bite his fist, moaning around it. Mission accomplished.

“Dude, I’m kind of a desperate virgin, and I’m just going to, um, apologize ahead of time if I come too soon, okay? Okay, yeah,” Nico babbles. Jason decides that it’s probably high time he pushes Nico against the counter. His back hits the faux marble with a slam.

Nico’s pants are around his thighs, and they’re tight enough to showcase his muscles. His cock peeks out over the top, and that’s when Nico seems to notice their unequal states of undress. He nearly rips Jason’s shirt from his body and throws it across the room again, in the complete opposite direction from where he threw the jacket. Clean-up won’t be simple then. Insatiable little bastard. If he’s like this now, once Jason has his lips wrapped around Nico’s cock, he’s so fucking screwed.

Jason loves giving head, always has. He likes the feel of a cock filling up his mouth, likes the aborted thrusts of hips as they try not to fuck him with wild abandon. He likes the musk and the slick, so it’s a shame he doesn’t get a chance to suck cock nearly often enough. He’s not exactly one for anonymous sex, and there’s not much time for dating nowadays. Seeing Nico like this, cock at the ready, curving towards his stomach, is enough to drive Jason a little mad.

Nico runs his hands over Jason’s back muscles, and when he finds them adequate—the little shit makes an appreciative noise in his throat—he latches his mouth onto one of Jason’s nipples and just _sucks_. The sensation spreads through his body, and his cock hardens with every lick of Nico’s tongue. He ruts against the air, until, wait. He has hands. From there, it’s a quick move to unbutton his pants and drop them around his ankles. He jumps enough to liberate one leg, but the other still hangs around his foot, and oh, fuck it.

Jason pulls Nico’s mouth away and chuckles when he sees the disappointed look on his face. “Trust me. You’re not going to be sad anymore after this.” He lifts a hand to Nico’s mouth, stretching his lips to fit one index finger in between. It takes a moment, but Nico seems to get the picture. He starts sucking, tentatively at first, but then hard, little sucks that has Jason moaning. Dear Lord, he’s a bad influence, isn’t he? At this rate, Nico’s going to be as desperate as Jason is for someone to fill up his mouth.

When Nico is occupied with that, Jason allows himself to focus on Nico’s cock. He wraps his fingers around the base and then just dives.

That sounds more poetic than “he makes a strangled sort of noise and messily wraps his mouth around the tip,” which is what actually ends up happening. Sixteen. He’s regressed in years. Hopefully stamina too, because there’s no way he’s letting the night end here.

As soon as Jason starts sucking, Nico bites down, _hard,_ choking on Jason’s fingers. He moans something that may be Jason’s name, but it’s too muffled, and anyway, there’s a buzzing in Jason’s ears as he works Nico’s cock.  He inches down Nico’s erection until it hits the back of his throat. His lack of gag reflex has always been an advantage in situations like these, and when Nico tangles his fingers in Jason’s hair and twists, Jason hears himself moaning around Nico’s cock. Nico bucks his hips, knocking the napkin dispenser off the counter in the process, and his erection slams against the back of Jason’s throat. Jason pulls off.

Nico’s running his fingers through Jason’s hair, and he looks abashed. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to do that.”

By now, Nico should know better than to tiptoe around Jason. “Fuck my throat. Don’t worry, I like it.”

Nico groans. “Are you actually real?”

“And while we’re at it, I should mention that I really don’t want to clean up after this either, so you should just come in my mouth,” Jason says didactically. He winks at Nico, and the other boy moans again.

“Stop _talking_. Next time, I’m gagging you, swear to God.”

Jason would not be opposed to that.

Nico’s pace is unsteady at first, but he’s a quick study. Always has been. Before long, he’s slamming into Jason’s mouth, gripping his hair and guiding Jason’s mouth where he wants it. It’s painful, but it’s a good kind of pain. Nico’s using Jason for his pleasure, and Jason’s letting him. Oh man, he’s letting him. Thank God they have time to figure out what this means, this newfound love of relinquishing control. It’s not hard enough to bring tears to Jason’s eyes, but it’s a close thing. All he can do is keep his mouth wet and suck inexpertly. Nico strokes Jason’s cheek, and Jason nearly thrashes when he realizes Nico can feel his hard cock through the thin layer of flesh.

Jason’s fingers, still spit-slicked from Nico’s mouth, circle Nico’s hole, and that’s all it takes for Nico to come. Jason feels warmth sliding down his throat as Nico’s dick pulses. He hadn’t realized he’d been stroking himself, but he feels his own release shuddering through his body as he milks Nico through his. When they’re done, Jason plants a kiss to the tip of Nico’s cock for good measure.

Nico falls against the counter, loose-limbed and sated. “Well, that was fun.”

Jason makes a show of checking his watch. “The night is still young…”

It’s a race to see who makes it to the door first, and Nico refuses to even take into the account the fact that he’d thrown Jason’s clothes around the room, the little shit. When he meets Nico by the door, night has fallen completely, and the only light illuminating their path is that of streetlamps. It’s horribly romantic in a cliché kind of way, when Jason grabs Nico’s hand and presses a chaste kiss to his lips. He still tastes like Nico, which has the kid giggling.

“I hope you know that I plan to keep you, Nico di Angelo,” says Jason.

“Duly noted.”

* * *

The shop is bustling, filled with overachieving students who want a head start on their exams. It’s not quite finals season yet, but for some, procrastination is simply not an option. Jason, unfortunately, isn’t one of those students, and anyway, spending his breaks not-to-subtly flirting with Nico is a better pastime. He gets kisses, and what do they get? Strained eyes and hunched backs? No thank you.

That day, Nico is wearing an old Beatles t-shirt and baggy jeans that don’t fit his body at all, held up by a belt that looks like it could be wrapped twice around his thin frame. He’s perched on his usual spot on the counter near Jason, sipping a vanilla latte and idly skimming through his chemistry textbook. They’ve already kissed exactly seven times that day, none of them more than quick pecks. Jason keeps track. There’s not much opportunity to do more here, not with Annabeth bearing down on them like a hawk.

When Jason manages to catch Nico’s eye again, in between two disgruntled customers, the other boy perks up. “Oh, I almost forgot!” He pulls a manila envelope out of his backpack and hands it over to Jason. “Piper thought it’d be a good idea to get those pictures from my photoshoot developed.”

“Did you just hand me a stack of pictures of yourself? Narcissism at its finest, young man.” Jason neglects to mention that he’ll probably stick these in a safe place anyway, whipped as he is.

Nico rolls his eyes. “Just look at the one on top.”

When Jason pulls the stack out of the envelope, he has to blink a few times at the first picture. “Is this the one where I landed on of you?”

“Obviously. It’s your bony ass that’s sticking up in the air.”

Jason pulls the picture out of the envelope slowly, afraid of damage. Irrational, he knows, but there’s something precious about this picture. They don’t look nearly as ridiculous as Jason thought, and the angle hides the ridiculous face he’d been pulling at the time. Jason’s forehead has accidentally fallen against Nico’s. The contact had lasted for only a second, but the camera managed to capture the exact moment it happened. They look intimate, like lovers instead of two confused children.

When Jason looks back at Nico, he’s grinning expectantly. Jason can’t help but return the smile. They have exactly five minutes to get as dirty as they can before Annabeth comes out of the back room and yells at them for PDA. May as well make the best of it.

Before Jason goes off to ravage Nico, however, he places the photo down carefully, so that it’s safe from spills. This one definitely deserves a spot on the fridge.

  


**Author's Note:**

> HELLO COME TALK TO ME ON [TUMBLR](http://nicolikesboys.tumblr.com/).


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